Frostbitten
by Noralesong
Summary: Summoned back to Westeros to join King Stannis in the North, Elaine Tyrell must help him to assure Highgarden's position in the kingdom. Neither her or Jon Snow were expecting to find a strange solace in one another as their families are ripped apart and the North's balance teeters delicately as if it were balancing on the point of a needle. What comes first, love or duty?
1. Chapter 1

_Elaine_

Fingers grazed the verdant leaves of the rose bushes that enveloped most of the manse. Crimson, gold, pale white, pink, she liked to think that the yellows had always been her favorite. Most favored the red, but she was reminded of blood and of Lannisters, both things that she could have done without. If only her grandmother didn't seem to have control of her a hundreds of miles away in Dorne, but alas, even there the reach of the matron could prick her finger and bring her round to the blood she loathed so much. Five good years she had spent in Dorne, away from those who scorned her, turned their backs on her after the incident. And she had all their names in a little book to repay the favor as her younger sister took her spot.

Elaine Tyrell, the forgotten daughter, the spoiled one. Why she had been summoned back to Westeros was beyond her, but she knew that things were not boding well. Every man left and right were calling themselves kings and Margaery's first husband was among one of those killed. She knew that their grandmother would have other plans, another place to move their swords, and now she was going to deploy Elaine and make use of her odd set of talents not typically acquired by noble ladies.

Highgarden spanned in front of her, the place of her childhood, warm and supposedly lovely. It also had been lovely enough to make her life a nightmare, ostracizing her when she could have used support. Her own father had been unable to look at her, ashamed that he had allowed this to happen and now that Elaine would serve little purpose. The Tyrells would not stoop to marry one of their children to anyone but of high caliber and if one could not be married…

_Oh, how I missed this place, _she thought tartly as she brought herself to finally enter the courtyard, eyes sliding among the green knights of the South. Many of them had recently seen battle at the Battle of the Black Water, but aside from that, they had seen little else other than tourneys. Seeing how her sister and younger brother would not be there, she braced herself for her meeting with her grandmother.

Someone was already waiting to whisk her away, dressed in the pale blue of House Tyrell and giving her a bit of a pompous look at her attire, which consisted of the gold of Dorne and was equipped with trousers beneath the slitted skirt. Horse handed away, Elaine glanced up at the castle in its glory and hunched her shoulders as she followed the stewart into the halls of her childhood and back toward the gardens where her grandmother, Olenna, would be waiting for her.

Grandmother Olenna was certainly a sight to behold, having not changed much over the years. She gave Elaine a petulant look, eyes glancing over the attire. "In your Dornish whore attire I see," she greeted kindly, not bothering to rise to embrace her eldest granddaughter.

The remark stung, but Elaine sucked on her teeth and then managed a smile at her. What had she been expecting? A royal welcome, a hug and a kiss? No, Olenna cared little for pleasantries, especially among her own family. "Lovely to see you again, grandmother," she replied evenly, pecking the Queen of Thorns on her cheek and taking the seat across from her as the woman glared at the stewart and dismissed him with a swing of her hand, as if she were trying to swat a fly away.

"You've even gotten a bit tan from the sun, certainly not the skintone of a lady at court," Olenna grumbled, picking up her glass of wine. "Pour some for yourself if you'd like it. Arbor gold."

Elaine helped herself and crossed one leg, wineglass poised in her hand as she gazed intently at her grandmother. "So," she began carefully. "What do I owe this wonderful summoning?"

"Well seeing that things have become unstable in Dorne due to Oberyn's death, I thought it would be best to retract you here," Olenna told her primly.

"And place me where? Certainly not King's Landing, you've already got Margaery and Loras there wooing the court. Why would you need me? I'm not exactly southorn court material, or have you forgotten about the incompetence of our knights?" Elaine reminded her, taking a deep gulp of the expensive wine. "No, you need the skills I've acquired in Dorne or else you would have just left me there."

"You know, I always thought you were the most like me," Olenna told her, shifting the subject slightly.

"Ouch, that's the worst insult you've given me yet," Elaine gasped in mock disbelief.

"Such a shame that it all had to end because one knight thought he could get away with taking your maidenhood. You certainly would have made a force in court," Olenna continued, the reminder of her past like a thorn in her side.

"I didn't come here to listen to you talk about how great I could have been had I not been raped," Elaine told her grandmother in a crisp, bitter tone. "Where am I going and what for?"

"Stannis Baratheon. Your idiot of a brother, Loras, was so infatuated with the man that my stupid son gave him all of our swords. No one loves Stannis, but he is truly the one our swords should have belonged to. And you know how I am, I never like to put all my eggs in one basket and using you…"

Most people thought Elaine was dead, she might as well have been due to being a soiled lady. The Tyrells never spoke of her and thus she faded out of existence, an invisible pawn to be moved when the time was right. "Oh, so you're not putting all your faith in the Lannisters? It's a shame you don't rule the house grandmother, or you could have used your swords to win the Black Water for Stannis rather than stabbing him in the back. Now, why would you think he'd forget such a thing and happily accept my arrival with the promise of swords that were just up the asses of his men?"

"The Lannisters still have great power and we'd be fools not to join them. However, my sources say that Stannis is going to ride north and if he were to acquire what remains of their forces, aside from those owned by the Boltons…"

"I still don't get it. The north is fractured, especially since the Red Wedding killed the Stark King. Not to mention that it's certainly unkind of you to send me north after I've been toasting my tits in Dorne. I suppose you're just hoping that I freeze to death."

"The northerners are a loyal group and they haven't forgotten how the Boltons or the Freys sold out their king. If Stannis can unite them and rebuild his army-"

"It will still not be larger than ours. If you're planning on marrying Margaery to Joffrey, what promise are you going to make Stannis? That we'll have Loras put a knife in his throat and become a Kingslayer like Jaime Lannister? No, father wouldn't like that and Loras doesn't have the balls."

"I have other methods of obtaining a king that is more subdued and easier to control," Olenna told her curtly. "And the Lannisters are not worth trusting. We'll need another route out and that'll be easier made if we already have our hands in Stannis's honey pot. We give him you as a ward and make a promise that we will repay him for the battle he lost."

"And what if his Red Woman decides they should just burn me? Or Stannis decides my head should come off for the treason of my family?"

"He'd be a fool to. Even the promise of an alliance with the strongest house in the south will keep your head on your shoulders. He needs our swords and you're the key to securing them."

"What of my fate if you decide Stannis is not the route?"

"You're a clever woman and I doubt you spent all your time in Dorne drinking away your sorrows," Olenna nodded toward the sword at her waist. "Earn Stannis's trust and promise him whatever you want. If he can secure the North, we'll consider arranging our swords in his favor, but not before."

_This is a damned suicide mission. _"Great," Elaine grumbled. "I assume everything has already been arranged to bring me north to him before he departs?"

"To leave at sunset."

"Wonderful," Elaine hissed glancing out into the gardens. "Pack me enough whore dresses to see me through the cold, I hope…"

"Only the best for my granddaughter."

_Hm, yes, only the best for Margaery and the short end of the stick for me. Thanks Grandma._

_Stannis_

The ships had been prepared for the sailing to East Watch by the sea, it was only by Melisandre's suggestion that he remained at Dragonstone any longer. At first, she would only give him cryptic reasons as to why they waited, but he couldn't wait much forever, as the Night's Watch needed his assistance against the wildlings and she had also edged him in that direction. After being hopelessly dashed and defeated at King's Landing, he had to lick his wounds and find new subjects that would fight for him. The North, while partially controlled by the Boltons, a lot of traitors and mutineers that he did not want in his kingdom, the rest were loyal as dogs. He knew who to entreat, but had to get there first.

A rap echoed in his chamber as he stood, ready to ride north. He glanced over to see Ser Davos entering the room, giving him a respectful bow before announcing, "A Tyrell ship has landed here."

The words made Stannis blink apprehensively and head for the balcony, Melisandre whisking toward him in a crimson billow as she espied the ship beside him. They had been part of the reason of his defeat alongside of the return of the Lannisters. He had entreated them before and they had just laughed at him, thought he wasn't suited to be king. Last he'd heard, the one who married his late brother, Renly, was to be marrying Joffrey. Why would they send someone?

"Why?" Stannis grit through his teeth, wondering what sort of gift they were going to give him to make a fool of him yet another time.

"Your grace, they bring you one of their daughters as a ward," Melisandre told him smoothly, just at his arm as she gazed down the crags.

"That doesn't change the fact that they are responsible for our ruin at King's Landing," Stannis replied bitterly.

"No, not taking me is why the battle fell through," she reminded him darkly, turning her eyes to glare back at Davos. "The Tyrell will be useful, especially after uniting the North. It means they are offering their support once you've restored the Starks."

"You do not think it is a trick or a ploy?" Stannis asked her.

"No, why would they send you one of their true borne children, elsewise? This is good news, your grace, it means you have more support in the south than originally believed," Melisandre insisted.

Stannis turned back around and gazed intently at Davos. "See that the Tyrell is brought to me first. I want to hear it from her mouth," he told his hand before turning his attention back to the waves that were crashing against the rocky shoals.

Minutes passed before the door creaked open again and Ser Davos cleared his throat to indicate their return. When Stannis turned around, a young woman stood in the pale Tyrell blue, a cloak of molted periwinkle blue and seafoam green fluttering around her shoulders like wings of a butterfly. Her soft, loose curls were pinned back in a low bun, though several lockes had flown away from the strong winds outside. She looked rather like her sister Margaery aside from the few years seniority she possessed.

"Your grace," she gave a low bow, waiting only for his permission to rise, and as she bowed, he noticed the glint of a pommel beneath the folds of her attire.

"Rise," Stannis told her gruffly, narrowing his eyes at her as he gave her a once over again. This was not Margaery or Loras, this was a face unfamiliar to him. "What news does House Tyrell have for me?"

Rising stiffly, her eyes slid between those in the room. "House Tyrell offers me, their first borne daughter, Elaine Tyrell, as a ward as a sign of good faith."

Vaguely, in the back of his memories, he seemed to recall her name, but it had been some time since he had heard about the young lady. "A sign of good faith? Where was that good faith when I needed it in King's Landing?"

His words were harsh, like nails on a chalkboard as he leered at her, but the Tyrell did not balk or flinch. "Our numbers were just a fragment of what the Lannisters possessed. The bulk of our army did not march on King's Landing and our numbers remain reserved by Highgarden until they are truly needed. I would not have been sent before you if my family did not believe you as the true king. Our position in King's Landing is to benefit you when you win the North. Joffrey and his siblings are abominations that have no claim to the throne and the Tyrells see that, but until you have united the North under your banner, I act as a ward to sustain the promise that our 100,000 swords will rally to you when the time is right."

Stannis brooded silently at her words. Truly, the crimson cloaks were the ones that had swept upon them like a tide of blood, and the Tyrells had just been a small fragment of that. With the high positions they now held in court, right beside the bastard Lannisters, they could turn on a whim and overthrow the illegitimate heirs. The promise of all of the Tyrell army was more than he could have ever hoped for and it would be enough to combat the Lannisters. Once he had the North, he could free the Riverlands and then collapse on the capitol with the help of the Tyrells.

His eyes sought Melisandre to gauge the truth of the words that came from the girl's mouth. "See, my lord? The Lord of Light is truly looking out for you, you are the true king," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear.

Swallowing the lump that had been in his throat, he turned his attention back the Elaine and then to Davos. "See that Lady Elaine's things are brought over to the lead ship and that she is made comfortable. I intend to sail this evening for the North."

"Of course, your grace," Ser Davos bid before turning to show the Tyrell back out.

A woman with a sword, he hadn't thought the Tyrells were the type to arm their daughters with anything more than their wit, but then again, Stannis had all but forgotten this one existed. Once the door clicked shut, his thought consumed him again, he barely noticed that he was being steered toward one of the fire with Melisandre, who was gazing deep within the tantalizing flames.

"The girl is pinnacle to your success, do you see it? Do you see it in the fire?" Melisandre urged him to gaze into the flickering lights. Within the waves, he could see the faceless form of the Tyrell, spinning, and as her skirts moved, a leg stepping out and a sword brandished in hand. The sword locked with that of a lion and as the Tyrell balked at the strength, a wolf leapt past her and began savaging the lion. Thorns extended from her arms and the wolf possessed an prickly set of armor wrought in vines. "The rose and the wolf, the girl is the key to the North," Melisandre whispered seductively in his ear.

There were few wolves left, only two is Stannis recalled correctly, and one was a bastard. Why he had listened to Davos in the first place was beyond him. It was so clear in the flames that the little rose would help unite him wolf at the Wall, someone he had been intending on seeking on his voyage to help the Night's Watch against their impending battle with the wildlings.

_Jon_

Snow nipped at his nose and his waist felt alarmingly light without Longclaw on him. A stark landscape climbed in front of him, speckled with the tents of the wildling army that wanted to cross the threshold. He knew why and he didn't blame them, but to allow the Freefolk across meant that the North would be tossed into turmoil. They would not bend their knees to any king, not even Mance. Speaking of which, he knew what he had to do. The wildlings and any form of attack they had would crumble if Mance were gone.

Eyes watched him carefully, leering at the Crow that had killed one of his own to become one of them, but he'd never truly lost his black feathers. Many of his own brothers viewed him as a traitor as did the wildlings now. The only solace he had was that he knew he was doing the right thing, even if few others believed it. There would be no walking out of this, no one would let him go after he killed the King Beyond the Wall.

Steeling himself, he found Mance's tent, fingers curling tightly into fists, the wildlings did nothing to stop him. He was unarmed and there to entreat their king. Mance was waiting by the small hearth that turned the tent into a little hotbox, staving away the cold and snow that raged just outside the leather flap.

He was there to 'parley' with Mance, though his intentions were much darker than that.

"I must say Snow, I'm glad we could come to an understanding. They are people too, you know," Mance said, barely casting his eyes back to see who was behind him, somehow knowing it was Jon.

The battle was hopeless, they didn't have enough men on the Watch and Mance knew it. On top of that, Jon was exhausted by everything that had just happened, in spite of his years, he felt old. This was a means to an end, no one would sing of what he had done, but those who knew would remember him. Part of him wished he had never left Winterfell he had been beside Robb, to advise him to never cross the Freys or have Ghost defending his half-brother as well. On top of that, the battle at Castle Black had been one that wore him for the worse.

Ygritte had died in his arms. They could have never been together, not unless Jon had been willing to forsake everything he stood for. Between her and the loss of most of his family, Jon didn't know where he had left to turn. Ending Mance could be his final act before he joined his family on the other side.

Mance was pouring a goblet of wine, offering one to Jon. "A toast before we discuss the arrangements," the ex-Ranger offered, his eyes sliding to the table where Jon's lie.

Jon tried to avert his gaze before Mance noticed that he was looking at the cheese knife, but it was too late.

"Really boy?" Mance cocked an eyebrow at him, withdrawing the cup he had offered. "Your last act of heroism? Kill the King Beyond the Wall and then have his wildlings take you after? I took you for brighter than that... but I suppose you really are Eddard Stark's son. You're certainly just as eager to lose your head."

Mance was now in between the path to the knife and Jon's plan to assassinate him was foiled. Now he was at the mercy of Mance and if he tried to wrestle him for the knife, the others would hear and enter the tent. How long could Jon hold him off? Especially now that Mance knew Jon's intention?

But it didn't come to that.

_Wahooooooo. Wahooo. Wahoooooooo._

A horn blasted in the distance, but it did not belong to the Night's Watch or the wildling horde. Both Mance and Jon looked at each other in disbelief before heading for the tent flap to see hell had been unleashed upon them. Wildlings were trying to reach for their weapons, but there was little hope as mounted calvary tore through their leather and furs. Castle forged steel was more than a match for the poor weapons they boasted and most of their efforts were dashed. The army of wildlings crumpled and striding through the wreckage was a man in a pronged helm, a flaming stag upon his breast, approaching the tent where Jon and Mance stood in awe and shock.

Mance, knowing his defeat, did not even bother to reach for his weapons. Jon just ogled at the crimson woman that rode on a mare beside the dark warrior, quickly followed up by a sky blue ride who was wiping blood off on their dark green trousers. From the style of their helm, Jon thought it was the Knight of Flowers, Loras Tyrell, by the sigil emblazoned on their horse's tact, but it didn't make any sense to him. His mind reeled and he realized that the plea for help to the Kings of Westeros had been answered by none other than Stannis Baratheon.

A wildling was dragged forward, bleeding profusely from their head and dropped in front of Stannis's horse.

"Is that him?" his captor asked gruffly, one of the Baratheon's knights.

"Y-yes, that's Mance, the King Beyond the Wall," they stammered and with a small nod from their king, the knight ran the wildling through and dumped them unceremoniously onto the ground.

"Your grace, all these bodies will need to be burned," the crimson woman beside Stannis muttered quietly.

Stannis gave a stout nod and removed his helm, revealing a grave looking man as he leered down at them. His eyes focused on Jon. "Black. You're from the Night's Watch?" he inquired.

Finding his voice finally, Jon stepped forward. "I am Jon Snow, son of Eddard Stark. I came here to parley with Mance shortly before your arrival," he explained, glancing between him and the blue rider.

Stannis's dark eyes flickered at this. "Yes... you've got his look," the man muttered before turning his attention back to Mance. "I have come here to assist the Night's Watch and take care of this man who claims to be the King Beyond the Wall. He shall be executed for his false claims and war against Westeros."

Even though Jon had just been contemplating how he would kill Mance, he paused at what Stannis said. "No," he said quietly, drawing the brows of Stannis who was astounded by what he said. "Your grace, may I suggest that you arrest him instead? Mance Rayder has had plenty of time and opportunity to kill me, but chose not to. His people are afraid and just wanted safe passage, in spite of their ill manner of trying to obtain such."

The woman in red shifted on her horse and leaned in to whisper something in the king's ear. Stannis's nostrils flared and then he began nodding slowly. "Very well, out of respect for your father, we shall take him prisoner to Castle Black. Ser Davos, see to it that the dead are piled up and burned. Lady Elaine you are welcome to assist in coordinating the men in Mance Rayder's escort."

"Very well, your grace," the blue knight bowed her head and Jon blinked apprehensively, taken aback that the voice was clearly feminine. Turning her pale mare she gave out an order and a few soldiers came to her call, dismounting with them, the periwinkle cloak billowed around her, framed by pale mink fur on the collar.

Flanked by the soldiers, they bound Mance's hands with rope and had him waiting while the bulk of the military moved forward, wildlings scattered into the forest like mice before cats. The bodies were collected and piled up, thrown like ragdolls, less than worthy of a proper burial. However, a fire was ignited and through the flickering flames, a black smog and the sickly smell of roasting flesh rose into the air. The Tyrell had removed her helm respectfully, one of the few to watch as the wildlings were given their burial, flanked by Mance who appeared just as grim.

Across the fire, Jon noticed that the woman all in red was watching him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Elaine_

Stannis had given her more freedom than she had originally assumed. In fact, rather than treating her as a ward he allowed her to march alongside of him as an ally. With nowhere to run or turn to, especially this far from her home, she settled nicely into the niche that Stannis had allowed her. He let her dress comfortably and wear her weapon. It was once they had docked at East Watch that he let her delegate under the governance of Ser Davos. All in all, Elaine was in a much better position that she could have hoped for. There was little to fear from her and Stannis put her to work rather than keeping her behind with his simpering wife. She was thankful for that, she didn't know how long she could have beared to be around the obsessively religious woman.

Elaine was the agnostic sort and listening to the maddened rambling of the queen made her mind wander and it was difficult to force smiles to her face after a while. At some points, Elaine thought he was twitching over the few dinners she had with Selyse. The child, the princess, was certainly more precious than either of her parents realized and Elaine was certain that she doled some of her time to the girl, who looked up at her with round grey eyes, face half marred from the dragonscale. The only child to the Baratheon liege and she was imperfect. Elaine could relate to Shireen in that way and so there was a tender spot in her heart for the girl, as there was for most children.

The North was cold, she hadn't been prepared for it in the least, especially since she had been enjoying the heat of Dorne for years now. Freezing her tits off might actually happen and she had to purchase even more fur once they docked down and began moving their military. Even being at Castle Black meant little to the chill as it still clung to her. To say she hadn't noticed the eyes trailing after her would have been a blatant lie. Starved like wolves all picking apart a field that bore no game, she and Melisandre were the first pieces of meat they had espied in a long time. The Red Woman swept across the tiltyard in just the thin red robes, unperturbed by the chill of impending winter.

Elaine donned padded trousers, a thick pale blue coat that clung to her frame and was wrought with twisting vines of thorns, the golden rose emblazoned in fine embroidery. A warm cloak fell down her shoulders, hemmed in mink fur, her gloved fingers flexing as she looked around at the drab surroundings. How the Night's Watch hadn't died of boredom was beyond her. She supposed that duty and the enormous, unfathomably high Wall kept them busy enough. Moving was slow going in these frigid temperatures and while she might have preferred staying in the warm chamber she had been offered, she was also curious as to how the Night's Watch operated.

"There aren't a lot of them, are there?" Princess Shireen asked, her mittens tucked beneath her armpits as she flanked Elaine.

"No, they are not," Elaine replied grimly. The fight against the wildlings had no doubt weakened their already meager numbers. How few they were often fell on deaf ears in the South, for the Wall was so far that the idea of being overwhelmed by a flood of wildlings was just an idle thought, for they would never make it south of the Trident. But from the way that they formed, uniting for one cause, she wondered if they were running from something. Why did all of them suddenly want to go south of the Wall?

"Were the wildlings scary?" Shireen asked. She and the queen had been in a group roving far to the rear, perhaps half a day back so that they would be safe until the situation had been handled by the bulk of the Baratheon swords.

Scary? A good portion of those they had run through were women, children, and elderly. Taken unaware and by horseback, the wildlings had stood little chance as they were run through or forced to flee. But Shireen didn't need to hear about how fear had been plain on their pale faces, terror seizing them as their assault to get south of the Wall was halted abruptly by the icy steel reaving their flesh from bone. In all of their furs, it was difficult to tell man from woman, but Elaine had seen their faces as they were moved to the pile to be burned. Even if most of her peers scoffed at the savage wildlings, Elaine had removed her own helm to bow her head respectfully for the loss of life that evening.

"They're people just like us, just covered in a lot of furs," Elaine told her honestly, not thinking it suitable to tell the princess what she truly thought of the massacre she had taken part in. Not all battles spilled blood honorably and even if Stannis saw them as little more than pests, she couldn't shake the images of dead, especially the young and elder, from her head.

"I doubt I'll ever marry, but perhaps I can learn how to sit a horse like you Lady Elaine," Shireen said hopefully, likely envisioning a battlefield where the wildlings had been spitting like feral, rabid cats.

A small smirk climbed onto her lips and she glanced down at the princess. In front of them a few of the new recruits were sparring under the guidance of the dark haired Crow that had been with Mance Rayder. He was of a similar age as Elaine and had a very serious disposition about him. His shoulders sagged with the weight of his responsibility and he barely seemed to notice that he had a few spectators that afternoon.

Shireen was right, she probably would never get a suitable marriage proposal. Not anything that Stannis wouldn't consider insulting due to the way her face was. Perhaps the child learning how to fight would chase away her frailty and help build her immune system. Too often was Shireen confined to her tent or the castle in which they were staying due to her temperament. Selyse did not help much either, insisting that Shireen rest and take the milk of poppy, even though that was probably the root of all her problems. A child who drank so much of the drought was bound to feel weak, she needed to be out more, not confined to sleep.

She's not my child and it's not my place, Elaine reminded herself.

"My lady," Ser Davos was striding across the yard with a wind that only meant Stannis had sent him to do something.

Stannis could not have been more fortunate to have such a loyal and trusting subject as Davos Seaworth. Elaine had grown quite fond of the older knight, as he was often charged with her well being and keeping an eye on her. It was because of him that she had the opportunity to speak with Shireen so often to the point that the girl sought her out for companionship. Davos did not judge her based on her gender either, a rather refreshing quality that the man possessed which made her more inclined toward him. However, for how much she liked Davos, she also knew he was a bit of a fool. Easily manipulated and often sent on pointless errands, she sympathized for him as he leered at Melisandre, who held more sway over the king than he did.

Davos made a quick bow in front of Shireen who giggled at him and his candid act, a smile twitching to the man's mustached lips as he stood and then directed his attention back to her. "King Stannis seeks your attention on top of the Wall, along with Jon Snow," he appeared as if he were about to break up the sparring between the Stark bastard and the younger boy… Olly was it?

"See that Princess Shireen is returned safely to her mother. I believe she is in her chambers praying still," Elaine tried not to shiver at the thought of how often Selyse prayed. At this point she devoted more time to prayers than attention toward her own daughter. "I will fetch Jon Snow and accompany him up the Wall."

Until this point she had been avoiding going up on the Wall. Not only would it be brutally cold, but she would also have to pretend that the sheer height didn't want to make her wet her breeches. Davos gave her a small nod and saw Princess Shireen off and back toward the main fold of barracks. Elaine watched Snow sparring with the orphan boy, waiting for the most opportune moment to intercede.

Jon circled round Olly who made clumsy lunges, overstepping the threshold to which he'd be able to recover and parry if needed. "Rushing at me will get you nowhere other than dead. You're over extending yourself," Jon told him, making a fine example when the boy did it again. Jon sidestepped him and rapped him hard with the flat of the practice blade, causing Olly to stumble forward and nearly fall.

"I want to be fast," Olly told him.

"You can be fast without throwing your entire weight behind your swings," Elaine felt herself say. She had been watching for some time now, but as she listened, she grew tired of watching the meager improvements despite the stellar guidance that Snow was giving him. No doubt the boy had never held a sword until he had gotten to Castle Black.

"What would you know about sword fighting?" Olly asked her sharply, his pride clearly wounded by a woman speaking up against him.

Jon scowled at Olly and gave him a slight elbow. "You're speaking to a noble lady, Olly," he reminded him thinly.

Elaine chuckled and pushed back part of her cloak to reveal the sword at her waist to the orphan. "It's fine, no offense taken. After all, what would a woman know about sword fighting?" she slid the weapon from the sheathe, the metal singing a smooth note, as she tilted the thin, tapering triangular blade toward him. "Aside from the years she studied among the Sand Snakes in Dorne?"

Olly was dubious at the prospect, folding his arms.

"It's in your footwork," Elaine elaborated, but knew that the words would be better punctuated by a demonstration. "Lord Snow, if I may?"

Jon seemed nonplussed by the title she addressed him by. It was now his turn to give a bit of a worried glance as she poised. Was he worried about being bested by a woman or hurting her? Perhaps a combination of both? "Are you certain, my lady?" he lifted his sword only halfway and as an answer, Elaine didn't wait. She twirled the tip of her blade toward him and struck the blunted metal, turning his sword upward so that he had to engage his muscles to fend back her pressing offense.

"This may not be the best example, as I expect Snow is quite an accomplished swordsman, but being fast is accomplished by your blade work and how deftly you can move in tandem," Elaine explained to Olly before her words broke off, Jon's strength out matching her own. However, she noticed that he was still tentative, careful to not overpower her. "Don't let me embarrass you among your own men," she warned Jon in a soft voice between the grinding of the metal, catching a strange glint in his eyes as they broke apart. Almost as if he were going to take her up on her words.

As she had predicted, Jon was skilled with a sword, but what he had in a defensive knight's stance, she made up for in a whiplike prowess, a quick driving style she had picked up from the Dornish. There was enjoyment to be found in the art of trading of blows, almost to the point where she had forgotten about why she had interrupted them in the first place. Rather than continue until one of them made a mistake, she stood a step back and yielded the fight, casting her eyes over to Olly who had been watching with rapt intrigue. Somehow she suspected that there weren't many overtly talented swordsmen at the Wall, which was a shame.

"King Stannis requests our presence on top of the Wall. I didn't mean to commandeer your lesson, but I was going to interrupt either way. I just supposed a bit of a demonstration might be a better manner to end," but she intended just the opposite of her words. She knew that there had been onlookers around Castle Black to watch how the woman who wore a sword fought. Her intention hadn't been to make a fool of Jon Snow, but rather to prove that she didn't wear the weapon just for show. Of course, Olly may have learned a thing or two about watching how her feet moved and how she delicately poised for attack, prodding at areas she thought might have lacked coverage.

Jon relaxed, his face not seeming quite as serious as it had been when they first began. Perhaps it was her own arrogance, but she thought he might have had a bit more respect in his dark grey eyes. "Olly we will continue at a later time," he told the boy, who shrugged and then sauntered off to one of the dummies where he could try and replicate the moves he had just watched.

He escorted her to the elevator that would bring them up the side of the Wall. Boarding it with Jon Snow, she gripped the railing tightly as it began creaking and started to rise slowly. Her nostrils flared and she tried to steady her heart by taking deep breaths, but her anxiety only continued to hitch as they climbed higher and higher.

"You learned to fight like that in Dorne, my lady?" Jon asked her, the beginning of a conversation a welcome relief from the nerves that twisted her gut.

"Uh, yes. I spent a handful of years there and it is not uncommon for women to wield weapons if it suits them," she told him.

"I'm impressed, I can't say I expected a Southron lady to know how to wield a sword so well," he commended in an honest and amicable manner.

"And may I ask what you did expect of a Southron lady?" she arched a delicate brow at him and noticed that her sudden fixated gaze seemed to bring color to Snow's face. A smile curled to her lips and she left him at that, turning her eyes back in front of her, suddenly paling at the distance they had sailed while she had her eyes on the Stark bastard. Her breathing quickened before she could steel it and beneath her gloves, her knuckles whitened from the tension as she forced herself to look out at Castle Black, which was becoming rather small beneath them.

"My lady?"

_Jon_

Jon had never known the beauty of the ladies in the South. He had little experience at all with women aside from Ygritte and the prettiest of which were confined to who visited Winterfell in his youth. Perhaps the queen had been the most comely he'd seen, but she was nearly twice his age. On the other hand, Lady Elaine Tyrell was among those that Jon had heard about. Ladies like her were the ones that knights fought over a token for at tourneys. The one that could cause a man's heart to flutter in his chest with just a demure smile and a slight bat of her ashy lashes. And yet, Jon found himself curious as to how such a lovely lady ended up in the employment of Stannis Baratheon and wielded a sword. Would she not have been better suited for a castle where she could have been safe and smiling in a beautiful dress?

Beside him, the Tyrell stood in her pale attire with her gloves gripping the railing tightly. He had witnessed many good men balk at the heights and she seemed little different, her breaths shorting, her supple chest rising and falling rapidly as her soft lips exhaled small ghostly wisps. Her hair was an ashy brown, the curls twirled away from her face and pinned in a low bun at the base of her neck, half hidden by the thick, plush mink fur that hemmed the collar of her cloak. Her nose was small and upturned, her skin kissed by the sun, and her eyes as clear and pale as the summer sky. She was a woman suited for someone like his brother, Robb. Perhaps if he had married the Tyrell, things wouldn't have panned out as they had.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, she didn't seem to hear him before.

Her lashes fluttered rapidly and she flicked her pale eyes over to him, a nervous smile trembling to her lips. "Not fond of heights. I'd rather brace a ship in high seas," she told him honestly.

A strong gust of wind blew across causing the elevator to groan, chains rattling, and the carriage swaying from side to side like a swing as they were at the mercy of the Gods. This high up, it wasn't uncommon for the wind to slow the progression to the top.

Soft curls few out of her bun and the Tyrell gasped, scrunching her eyes shut. She appeared rather young in her fear, replacing the smirking lady he'd had the honor of sparring down in the courtyard. This high in the sky, she was at the whim of the weather, vulnerable and terrified, though she did her best to try and hide it. It wasn't that Jon really enjoyed breaking his vows made to the Night's Watch, but his heartstrings tugged at her terror and he put an arm around Lady Elaine to stabilize her. Was it a crime for him to comfort a lady who was clearly distraught? He didn't think so, but the proximity of her certainly did make for an uncomfortable rise in his throat and chest.

Jon let Elaine cling to him, her head turned away from the long drop beneath them and he cast his eyes out over the expanse, trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks and ears. Despite how cold it as, he felt rather hot being this close to someone else. Once they were near the top, he cleared his throat and Lady Elaine, taking the hint, stepped back before anyone noticed that he had been sheltering her from the wind and vision of the height.

Her cheeks were also bright and she averted her eyes balefully before the elevator made it to the top of the Wall and they could disembark. Almost instantly, she recovered from the mess she had just been in and tightened her fingers around the pommel of her sword as they continued past a few brothers of the Night's Watch and sought out King Stannis. The duo found King Stannis and the red priestess, Melisandre overlooking a spot that gazed out beyond the Wall.

Lady Elaine took a tentative step forward, as not to get too close to the edge, staying on the side of the brazier that blocked her view entirely of the wilderness beyond. Jon took a knee in front of Stannis respectively, the only one to do so, though Stannis did not seem bothered that the Tyrell was cozying up to the fire.

"Rise," Stannis directed before gazing intently as Jon. "Let me ask you, would you like to avenge you half-brother, Robb Stark?"

More than anything, in fact Jon had contemplated leaving Castle Black on numerous occasions to try and help Robb when his father had been killed. Then following the knowledge that his younger brothers had been killed no thanks to Theon… His loyalty had been tested time and time again and yet he stayed. "My duty is to the Night's Watch," Jon droned, the words coming to his lips naturally, though they tasted bitter.

Stannis nodded, a man of honor and principle.

"That can be questioned due to how much time you've spent among the wildlings," Melisandre told him wispily, her crimson eyes illuminated by the fire that seemed to glow brighter beside her.

A dull reminder that Jon had done the unthinkable to understand what the wildlings were up to. It had come at the cost of trust and now also at the downfall that he felt for them too.

"I want to retake the North before pursuing the Riverlands and then King's Landing. You are the last heir to Winterfell, legitimate or not. I need only decree it for it to be true and you could be named the Stark of Winterfell. Think of it Jon, I am offering you the Lordship of Winterfell. The North will rally behind a Stark," Stannis suggested, dangling in front of Jon what he had craved for so many years.

Jon had yearned to be a true borne son for all his life, but being offered Winterfell in this manner felt wrong. He would have been lying if he said he didn't want it, but he couldn't abandon Castle Black after just returning. His brothers needed him and he still had to work with the wildlings. He could not leave with his work incomplete. Before Jon could answer, Stannis spoke again.

"My plans are to use the wildlings, to pardon them if Mance bends his knee before me. There are too many of them to simply let them waste away, not when they could make a considerable contribution to my own numbers. Get Mance Rayder to bend his knee and the wildlings can join me," Stannis proposed, laying an enormous task down at Jon's feet. "You have until sundown or else he'll be burned for his treason."

Stannis was not looking for an answer to his ideas just yet and Jon took the hint that this was all the king wished to speak about at this moment. The Baratheon turned his attention to Elaine and spoke to her in a low voice, Melisandre sweeping forward in a red wave to escort Jon away from the private conversation that was about to happen. The ease he had felt when accompanied by Elaine vanished and was replaced by unnerve as the red woman sauntered beside him.

"Does the cold not bother you, my lady?" Jon inquired, glancing at the light robes she wore.

Her bloody colored eyes focused on him and she smiled. "The Lord's fire lives within me," she answered him as they turned toward the elevator.

Jon would have much rather gone down on his own, but he couldn't exactly voice that to the priestess. A silence settled between them, only broken up by the whistling of the wind, the clanking of the chains, and the groaning of the pulleys as they moved down slowly.

"Are you a virgin Jon Snow?" she questioned abruptly.

Jon tried to stop himself from giving her an astonished glance, but failed, and turned his eyes away again. "No," he managed eventually, uncertain of why she had asked such a question. Should he have lied? Would she have known he was lying?

"Good," Melisandre said approvingly, leaving the conversation just there.

Thankful to part ways once the casket landed, Jon made his way to the cells where Mance Rayder was being held. A gargantuan task had been laid at his feet and he knew that it was unlikely that he would get the answer he wanted. He didn't want Mance to die, but he also knew that Mance would probably never bend his knee. Drawing in a deep breath, Jon opened the door to the prison and prepared himself to fight for Mance's life.

_Elaine_

Standing on the edge of the known world was not exactly something Elaine had aspired to do. In fact, she kept the fire as a buffer, only sneaking the slightest glances through the flames to glimpse what lay beyond the Wall. She'd been on that side not too long ago and would have much rather been back on the ground. Now that she was alone with Stannis she hugged the warmth of the fire, wondering what he intended to speak with her about as Jon Snow and Melisandre left them.

"I intend to march in a fortnight to take Winterfell, whether or not Snow intends to join us," Stannis informed her, posing a question on her lips. Why would he denign her with this information? Up until this point she had simply followed him around and helped delegate lower castes of his military. His cold eyes turned to her, glancing her over. This was not the look of a man who lusted after her, but rather was sizing her up, trying to decide if she was worthy of his attention. "Melisandre tells me that you are a clever lady and that I would be better to listen to what advice you may have."

All because of the red woman, Elaine stood here? She stood up erect and looked over Stannis. He might not be the king that everyone would love as they loved Renly, but he was just and fair, lived by a code of honor that had gotten Ned Stark killed. He needed someone who knew how the court worked and how to win the affection of the rich and poor. At this point, he had two advisors; Davos who was just as straight edged as he and Melisandre, the cryptic and seductive witch who whispered strange secrets in his ear. What would Elaine be?

"Your grace, as you asking for my council as well?" she tiptoed carefully. As a ward, she didn't want to overstep her boundaries and lose the freedom she possessed.

"I would not be having this conversation with you if not… You are my connection to the Tyrells and deserve to have as much say in my actions," he told her stoutly, causing Elaine to raise her brows in surprise. "The Tyrells are loved by their bannermen and common people alike. A feat I cannot boast myself."

Swallowing, Elaine ran through the options in her head, the gears turning wildly as she thought over what Stannis should do. "Then, if you'd have my council, I shall give it," she replied slowly. "I do not think it wise to march on Winterfell."

Stannis's eyes snapped to her as if she were impudent for countering him, but he did not voice such opinion. Instead, he asked, "Why?"

"We do not have the numbers. Even if we do gain the wildlings, they are untrained and ill mannered. They shall not follow orders, walk in formation, or know how to siege a keep as large as Winterfell. Their skill is in guerilla warfare, which might do well in the Wolfswood if you can lure the Bolton bastard out there, but if you want a true battle on the field, you shall lose. Winterfell has survived many attacks due to its walls and this shall be no different. Bolton will probably not meet you on the field and by now will know we are here. He will have enough time to make preparations for an attack and have his father summon reinforcements to cut off our escape," Elaine explained, envisioning the battle in her mind's eye.

"Melisandre tells me she sees victory in her fires," Stannis argued in a flat tone.

"Then if she sees victory, perhaps it is because we choose another route to obtain it," Elaine said crisply.

"And what would you suggest we do? The North is under the control of the flayed man, it needs to be freed before we can make any proper strides to bolstering our numbers and consequently freeing the Riverlands."

"You said the Tyrells were good at winning folk both noble and common, no? Then take it from a Tyrell, let us begin here at the Night's Watch. I recall the stories of which Castle Black was large enough to host an entire army of thousands of men and yet when I've arrived here, the garrison is in shambles. The South has neglected the Wall for too long and we've let it waste away into nothing. There are barely a hundred brothers here protecting us from the threats to the far north and the state of disrepair is atrocious. If you wish to prove to the North that you are serious about protecting and guarding them, start with what lies at the crown of their lands. We could repair Castle Black, restore it to its glory, acquire more bodies to help man the wall, and then move our attention to the Shadow Tower and East Watch, that also sorely need attention. Perhaps some of the wildlings would be willing to take the black, but I also know where we could fill these halls with blades.

"This will not be an army we can utilize, but it will be one loyal to you nonetheless. The Night's Watch will only answer to King Stannis Baratheon and shall forever be in your debt for restoring them to their proper, true glory. With no enemies behind us, Castle Black could be your outpost until we've worked out other arrangements. We need a strong foundation before we can even consider an attack on Winterfell and helping the Night's Watch will not only win many of the Northern lords by your deeds, but it will also send many to join your cause."

Stannis chewed on the information. Remaining at Castle Black for repairs meant they would be there much longer than a fortnight, perhaps for an undisclosed amount of time. However, no lord, Bolton or not, would dare attack the Night's Watch to get at Stannis, especially if his intentions were to help bolster the strength of the Night's Watch. Staying there left them in a protected limbo and allowed for them to win over the North in a more strategic method.

"And how will we get supplies? The souls to make the repairs? And the coin to afford such luxuries?" Stannis questioned finally.

"Give me a week to have a raven back from Highgarden with an answer. Consider it the Tyrell's first bout of goodwill to provide the coin to bring masons, carpenters, supplies, and additional men to join the Night's Watch. Across the sea, we've got Braavos to the far north where we can acquire said workers," Elaine proposed, knowing that the coin would be easily obtained from Olenna. They couldn't send their own people without rousing suspicion from the Lannisters, but they could contract quite a few Bravosi.

"If we stay for these repairs," Stannis started slowly, his eyes roving the white waste down beneath them. "What would be our move after the renovations for the Night's Watch?"

"Cut off the trading routes between Winterfell and the Dreadfort. Winter is coming and the one who has the food and fuel, controls the North. We can import a lot of supplies and we can also utilize the wildlings to steal it from convoys. We will need to slowly whittle away at Winterfell's ability to receive aid from the Boltons. Whether that be intercepting supply caches, destroying the roads that lead between them, we want Winterfell to be stranded on its own island before we consider a siege. With this amount of time leading up until the true fight for Winterfell, we could also be working on the relationships with the Northern houses.

"After the loss of Robb Stark and the two boys, they are broken, many of their numbers depleted, and certainly will not be overly willing to assist those from the South unless they've proven they care for the North. Which, revolves back to taking care of the Night's Watch first. Prove yourself to the North, your grace, and they will follow you."

"I shouldn't have to. I am their rightful king, as declared by Eddard Stark," Stannis frowned, making Elaine wonder if all of her plans would fall through just because Stannis thought he deserved more attention. "If you can get confirmation from Highgarden within a week, I will consider your plans to rebuild the Night's Watch. If not, we will march on Winterfell in a fortnight."

That's not a no, she thought, trying to keep herself from smiling too much. Bowing her head respectfully to her king, she nodded. "Then if you'd excuse me, your grace, I have a raven to send."

"You may go," Stannis said gruffly, but before she departed entirely he cleared his throat. "Keep a close eyes on Jon Snow."

Elaine nodded, but was albeit uncertain by the request. Why Jon Snow? She knew that Stannis was interested in him because he had Stark blood, but why would he directly assign her to keep an eye on him? Perhaps due to their similar ages? Elaine didn't dwell much on it, seeing that she had to head back down the Wall on the terrifying contraption that screeched and protested as if each trip was going to be its last. Her legs were like jelly when she got to the bottom.

Slowly, she tread through the yard, inspecting the deplorable state of Castle Black. Nearly half of the garrison was dilapidated beyond use, which could have been utilized now that the Baratheon army was there. She could envision what the dark structures may have looked like in their prime and how many they could have hosted if it had been maintained. The brothers all appeared as tired and miserable as the shamble of a keep, a true reflection of what they had been reduced to.

Had any of the southern lords bothered to visit Castle Black, they might have considered putting coin in to restoring it. Now that duty rested on Elaine's shoulders and she would see it done. These men deserved much better for the sacrifices they made, whether or not they had been lords in their past lives or thieves. Determined by the idea of rebranding the Night's Watch, she made her way to the tower where she had spotted ravens roosting in the windows. Inside the spire it was dark and dusty, illuminated only by a few sparsely located scones. Climbing the stairs, she gave a stern knock on the door that would lead to the rookery.

A familiar, plump young man opened the door, his chins jiggling and his brown eyes widening as he was clearly taken aback that a woman stood in front of him rather than a fellow brother. He paused in mild confusion, his fat cheeks suddenly brightening and said, "Lady Elaine," in a thin, nearly shrill voice.

It had been a very long time since she had seen Samwell Tarly, but he had not changed much other than adding to his height and girth. Not expecting to see a familiar face, a smile broke out onto hers. "Lord Samwell." The Tarlys were stout bannermen of her family and they had often come to visit Highgarden. It had been common knowledge that Lord Randyll Tarly was not fond of his pudgy, scholarly son. In a way, Samwell reminded Elaine of her brother Willas, who also could never sit a horse and fight like his younger siblings.

"Uh, it's just Sam, not ever going to be a lord," he muttered, a nervous twitch about him as he moved out of the doorway to let her in. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Behind him was a plethora of books, rows upon rows filled with dust covered volumes. Even the tower was dark, a few candles guttering in corners by desks that were littered with books and loose pieces of parchment.

"Would you mind if I used the ravens to Highgarden? I need to send a letter," she implored, flashing a warm, kind smile at Samwell.

She knew the effect it would have on him, reducing the man to nothing more than a blubbering puddle, trying to find words as a beautiful lady honored him with one of her smiles. He took a solid minute to find his voice. "Of course, my lady," scurrying as fast as his thick legs would let him as she tried to clean off a nearby desk so that it was suitable for her use. He would have had to clean it for hours to removed the grim, layer of silt, and candle wax that had been left there when candles had burned down completely.

"Don't worry about it," she told him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "I shant be here too long."

Samwell blushed and nodded, getting out of her way and then returning with some fresh parchment used for raven deliveries. Elaine sat in the seat and began writing the letter to her grandmother to acquiesce the funds for masons, carpenters, and builders along with the resources that would be needed to fix the Night's Watch. Highgarden had plenty of coin, especially from their bountiful harvest. She knew that Castle Black's repairs would be easily affordable, though did not know how well they could also cover the Shadow Tower and East Watch. Perhaps she could entreat some Bravosi merchants about deals with Stannis in order to acquire what else they would need.

Once one outpost was done, they could show it off to the rich magisters and bank as an investment and a place to send those seeking a life of servitude and honor. Braavos was just the beginning, she had her fingers tied in Lys as well, and knew that she could summon some of the magisters that far north to consider what contributions they might wish to make. The South was a mess, as was the North, and many of the Free Cities were looking to see where they could put their hands to garner coin. The Lysene would be no different and already having some dealings and friends within their ranks, Elaine knew she could call upon them once Castle Black was more suited to having guests.

She did not voice her entire plan on parchment through her quill, but her grandmother must have known that Elaine's dealings with the Free Cities would come in handy while working with Stannis. Sealing the letter with the nearest emblem, she used the Night's Watch sigil rather than her own family's, as it would be less suspicious.

Finding Sam wasn't difficult, he had been in an aisle of books, pretending to read something, though from the position of where it lied she suspected he had been looking through the rows to watch her.

"Is the raven ready?" she asked him.

"Ah, yes," he slammed the book shut, stirring a layer of dust around them, before leading her through another door and into the rookery with all of the birds. Finding the correct cage, Elaine watched as the bird contentedly let him pick it up and she handed over the letter, which he fastened to the raven and then brought it over to the window, letting the bird go out into the bland grey sky.

"Congratulation in joining the Night's Watch," Elaine told him as they watched the raven become nothing more than a black speck in the sky. "How do you like it here?"

Samwell fidgeted at her words. He had never been one for talking, especially to the ladies of the court. He'd remained in his books, only stealing glances here and there. "Thank you, it's… fine. I like it here, I suppose."

Sensing that she wouldn't get much out of him she gave him another smile. "Well, thank you for your help Sam. It's nice to see a familiar face here."

* * *

_A lot of the storyline is going to be altered going forward as well as the ages of characters manipulated. As the show did, Jon Snow, Robb Stark, and Theon are all going to be a bit older than in the books. However, I did intent to leave Margaery's age similar to the books, so she's only about 15 or 16 during this course of the story, making Elaine the 2nd eldest Tyrell behind Willas, but is older than Garlan. _

_Jon snow would still be in his early twenties at this point, but albeit older than portrayed in the shows (seeing he'd be 21 or 22 at this point). _

_Sansa will still be quite young, about 13 going on 14._


	3. Chapter 3

_Davos_

Castle Black was in a poor state. Not that anyone south of the Trident would have ever known that. Letters always came from the Night's Watch, requesting more souls to bolster their numbers and supplies. He would have thought with how frequently those letters went out that people would have answered them. And now Stannis had turned his eyes to Winterfell, the pinnacle of the North. But Davos had his own thoughts about that and from what he knew, Winterfell would not be easily taken. It was on the word of that accursed woman that Stannis would dash himself against the walls of Winterfell. Then there was the topic of Jon Snow.

Davos was blatantly aware that they would need a Stark if they wanted the rest of the North to join them. He'd received the letter today stating that the Mormonts would only follow a true Stark. The Northerners were made of a similar bolt of cloth as Stannis and it was their stubbornness that vexed the Baratheon so. _If only you could look into a mirror and realize they're quite similar, _he thought, watching as Baratheon men were building a pyre that evening. This only meant one thing, Mance Rayder had declined to bend his knee.

He wondered how soon after the burning of Mance would the brothers decide who was to be their new Lord Commander. An ebbing, awful feeling gnawed at his stomach, aware that Alliser Thorne would probably become the next leader of Castle Black. That spelled trouble for Jon Snow if it came to pass. Steeling himself for the bitter execution (one that he did not agree with) he watched as a figure in pale blue flitted across the darkening tiltyard to join him. He immediately recognized Lady Tyrell and felt a bit at ease beside the girl as she chose to wear a dress beneath her cloak that evening.

"My lady," he greeted, catching a glimpse of her comely face as the nearby torches brightened it. Had his sons not died, he had dreamed they would marry a lady as beautiful as Elaine. The Tyrells were known for their attractiveness and it was refreshing to have the lovely blue rose in their company, especially seeing that she had a good head on her shoulders and wasn't absolutely helpless.

"No moon tonight," she commented grimly, glancing up at the sky with her pale eyes. "The Dornish say that executions with no moon to bear witness is cruel and will stave it off for days, even weeks until the moon is bright and watching."

"And what do they say if the execution is still committed?" Davos inquired.

Elaine dropped her eyes, ghostly when reflected in the fire. "They consider it murder, not an execution."

Davos nodded slowly, crossing his hands in front of him. He didn't like any of this either, perhaps the girl was right in saying that it bode ill to not do this beneath the eyes of the moon and stars. "Well, I just hope we can get this over with quickly," he grumbled.

"Doubtful since it'll be done by fire," she pointed out as people began milling out into the yard to await the execution.

Jon Snow appeared with his ivory white dire wolf at his side, he appeared bothered and displeased that it had all come to this. Davos stared intently at him, hoping that the young man had taken everything into consideration. Finally, Stannis, Melisandre, and Selyse descended from the chambers they had been utilizing. In tandem, Mance Rayder was brought before the pyre for one last stand.

Poised in front of Stannis, the ex-Ranger gave a bored and insolent look up at him, clearly not having changed his mind. "Mance Rayder, I entreat you one last time. Will you bend your knee and join my cause?" Stannis asked, voice booming through the yard as everyone watching teetered delicately, waiting to see what the Crow turned wildling would decide.

"No," Mance told him coldly.

Stannis stepped back and nodded to the soldiers that were gripping him. Hoisting the man up onto the pyre, they began securing his bindings to the post and once they were content, gamboled down. "Then you shall be executed for committing treason. There is only one true king in the Seven Kingdoms," Stannis picked up one of the torches and threw it onto the kiln dried wood that was at the man's feet.

Davos flinched, having seen many burned to appease the Lord of Light. There would never be any getting used to it, as it twisted his heart to think what the one burning might suffer. To him, a hanging was a much cleaner and fair death or even a beheading. Those were over in an instance… But this was torture, roasting the skin right off your flesh until you remained nothing more but a blackened corpse, every bit of the fire paining you as you cooked. For a moment, Davos thought of his son and how the wildfire had consumed him.

_Death by fire is the purest, _he thought of Melisandre's words and his fingers curled into fists, his eyes turning to her in rapt fury. She stood contentedly near the flames as they climbed closer to Mance, the heat making the man sweat. It would only be a matter of time before the screaming began.

A hand rested on his tense forearm and when he glanced over, he saw that it was Lady Elaine who was comforting him. From the flat expression on her face, he could also see that she did not look pleased by this outcome. She had also been one of few to bother to stand vigil for the wildlings they had slain. Instead of watching Mance be burned, his kept his eyes on Elaine, flinching as he heard Mance beginning to scream, the Tyrell wincing slightly as well.

However, as swiftly as it had begun, there was a fit of talking against the crackling of the fire and Elaine's eyes trailed away from the pyre. Davos looked as well, spotting Jon Snow as he took a nearby bow and pulled back the string. With a resounding thrum, the arrow flew into the pyre and struck true, killing Mance as it lanced him through the heart and ended his suffering abruptly. Davos wanted to clap at this act, but he knew what justice Jon Snow had stolen from the others.

Many brothers were glaring at him now, especially Alliser Thorne. Jon ignored them, returned the bow, and stalked off with Ghost close at his heels. Any chance he might have had there had been spoiled even further at that point. Davos followed Jon into the barracks, his dire wolf noticing him first. The albino beast did unnerve him a bit with its crimson eyes, reminding him vaguely of Melisandre.

"Jon," Davos called carefully, watching at the Crow turned to face him. Plainly written on his long face was the dismay of what was happening just outside the walls. "You should take King Stannis up on his offer. If Alliser Thorne becomes the Lord Commander, he will punish you for the mercy you just showed Mance Rayder."

A bitter smile unfolded on the man's face and Davos thought he looked very much like Ned Stark at that moment. "I am a man of the Night's Watch."

Davos stood in the doorway as Snow disappeared, a sigh expelling from his lips. How stubborn youth was. He'd seen it in his own son and now in Jon Snow. The realm needed him, but it didn't seem like the promise of Winterfell was enough to entice him.

_Jon_

It came to be as much of a surprise to him as it had all the others brothers when Samwell had the gall to put his name into the election for Lord Commander. What was even more astounding was that he had won because of Maester Aemon. Now that Jon had settled into his new position, about a week had passed, and he knew that Stannis would not wait much longer for an answer. He recalled the words of Ser Davos Seaworth regarding his decision to show Mance Rayder mercy, but he did not regret it. The ex-Ranger had showed him many kindnesses and this was the last that Jon could afford him.

Mance would not kneel because he would lose the wildlings the moment he conceded to Stannis.

Rifling through his ledgers about their meager stores for the impending winter, he sighed to himself, raising his eyes only when Samwell entered through the door. This study was makeshift until Stannis left, since he was occupying the Lord Commander chambers. Ghost lifted his massive head, tail thumping slightly at the sight of a friend.

"I don't mean to bother you Jon, I know you're busy trying to catch up with all of this work but…" his companion fidgeted slightly as he stopped in front of his desk. "Lady Elaine is requesting to meet with you later this evening to discuss a raven she received."

Jon's brows furrowed, wondering what other bad news they could receive. "Did she mention what it regarded?"

"No, only that it was important," Sam informed him stoutly.

Lady Elaine intrigued Jon, but he'd been engaged by his duties to try and keep his guests comfortable. However, she was easy to spot with her light attire and the way the men's faces lit up as she passed. That unsettled him slightly, seeing that a good chunk of those under his command had been brought to Castle Black for rape. Now they had a pretty flower enticing them and even being skilled with a sword didn't mean she couldn't be caught unaware.

On the other hand, Jon would have been lying if he said he wouldn't enjoy a conversation with her. Her refreshing appearance reminded him why he fought at the Wall to protect the realm.

"House Tarly… Your liege lord was House Tyrell, correct?" Jon asked, wondering if Sam could shine a light on the enigmatic lady.

"Yes, I've been to Highgarden before. It's quite lovely," Samwell said, his eyes casting off as he seemed to lost in his memories of the manse.

"Did you know of Lady Elaine?"

At this, Samwell clearly became uncomfortable. "Yes, I knew her before… Uh well, it's a rather tender subject."

Jon arched a brow at his friend. "What do you mean?"

"Some years ago, Lady Elaine was savaged by a knight on her birthday. The Tyrells tried to keep it as quiet as possible and she vanished. I assume to Dorne where she learned to fight, I always thought that she was just hiding in one of the towers of Highgarden to waste away. I am glad to see that she is doing well, but her family could not have bartered her hand, not after she lost her innocence."

Suddenly, the reason the Tyrell was with Stannis made much more sense. The thought of teenage Elaine being raped on her name day made him shudder. He knew what it meant for a lady to not possess her maidenhead. Her family could no longer utilize her and she would be scorned for a reason she could not have prevented.

"I hope that knight lost his head," Jon muttered, turning his eyes back down toward the ledgers.

"That's always been the touchy part. I don't think the right one was punished. Someone else took the fall for it. But that's all rumor and speculation. Lady Elaine, when I knew her, was very kind and clever. They say that the Tyrell women are lovely, but you have to watch out for their thorns."

"Tell Lady Elaine I shall meet with her to discuss business. Arrange to have dinner prepared and brought up as well," Jon directed before returning to his work. He tried to set his mind to the task at hand, even after Samwell left him, but found that he was distracted by Lady Elaine's origin story and by the fact that he would be dining with her that evening.

With an angry sigh, he placed his quill in the inkwell and stood up, drawing up a bath to clean himself before he had to play the part of Lord Commander. That didn't change the fact that he would be alone in his study with a gorgeous woman. Ghost sensed his unease and nosed his hand as he buttoned up his leather jerkin and ran his fingers back through his raven curls. What would be the topic of the evening? Why did she wish to meet with him to discuss a subject?

Jon was brooding up until the point where the dinner was delivered and a stern knock resounded against the door. When he opened the door, he couldn't help but feel slightly faint by the vision in front of him. Wrapped tightly in her pale cloak, Lady Elaine wore a periwinkle dress with graceful golden metal work around the bodice, which cinched her slender waist and cut down between her breasts. The skirts billowed like lapping waves of the ocean and her sleeves were sheer, shimmering silk, slitted to reveal her warmly tanned arms, which were holding various rolls of parchment.

Long ashy brown hair fell in curls down her back and chest, a few strands twirled away from her face as she gazed at him expectantly with her clear eyes. Jon wondered if all the women in the South were just as attractive and if he had chosen the wrong occupation in that very moment. Realizing that she must be cold, he stepped aside and let her into the study which was warmed by the hearth.

Sweeping by him with the aroma of lavender following her, she glanced down at Ghost and smiled. She bent down and reached a hand out toward the dire wolf, a rather bold choice. Instead of baring his teeth at her, Ghost shoved his nose into her palm and snuffed loudly before allowing her to pet him.

"What a beautiful creature. I was hoping to see him up close," Lady Elaine commented as she scratched behind the wolf's ear. Ghost was soaking up the attention, contentedly closing his eyes as he was given a good pet.

"My lady," Jon offered her the seat at the table that had been prepared and she glanced back at him, arm still stuffed with papers, before she stood and accepted the chair.

"I'm glad that you could spare the time to meet with me. I assure you that you'll be rather pleased by the reason I've come before you, Lord Commander," she arched a brow at him and his new title, bringing forth a small smile from Jon in the comical manner that she did it. Unfurling some of the parchment, she revealed drafts of Castle Black that had likely been dredged up from the libraries that Sam worked in. Jon accepted them, brows furrowing as he saw the schematics and blueprints, many of which were for the towers and parts of the garrison that were in such disrepair that they could not be used. However, he noticed that someone had taken ink and drawn in the deficiencies, including measurements and parts that would need to be ordered for the repairs.

"And why have you brought these up, my lady?" Jon inquired as he thumbed through the various buildings.

"That is the reason I am here. On behalf of King Stannis, Castle Black is going to be restored to its original glory. Many of those schematics are of old barracks and chambers that were intended for the use of noble visitors."

"We don't get many noble visitors," Jon grumbled.

"Obviously," she drolled. "Just look at the state of this place. Can you really blame the lords and ladies for not wishing to come here for just a glance off the edge of the world? However, if there was proper room and amenities, many would grace Castle Black with their presence to see what aid the black brothers need."

Jon didn't intend to be rude, but from the amount of work she was proposing… It was truly astounding. "Where are we to get the supplies? The people to do this? The coin? I don't really see how King Stannis is in a position to requisition everything that will be needed."

When he glanced up over the parchment at her, Lady Elaine was pouring the flagon of wine. He nearly warned her that it was a sour red and not the sweet vints she was probably accustomed to. However, she sat and took a deep sip, her pale eyes watching him before she gave him an answer. "Growing strong," she recited her family's words and Jon understood the reason why she was handing him the papers. Her family would be the ones paying for this to happen and Stannis would get the credit. "Arrangements are already being made and it should only be a handful of weeks before the Bravosi arrive with the lumber, stone, and steel needed to begin their work. After they survey the damages, gut what is too far gone, and draw their own plans up, they will work on the worst of the garrison first. Their attention will be turned to this area after completing the first portion of the work.

"King Stannis is appalled by how far gone Castle Black is and believes that the brothers who guard us from what is beyond the Wall should have better dwelling areas. On top of that, a castle that has been restored to its proper glory will certainly entice more… fair souls into enlisting, especially once you have the space to accommodate them all. I have also put word in with my family to take this raven seriously and they have also began actively recruiting in the South while the war simmers down for the moment."

"And all of this was King Stannis's idea? Restore Castle Black?"

"And Shadow Tower and East Watch after this, but those plans are so far off…" Elaine took another lofty sip from the wine, her shell colored lips dappled with the plum liquor. She pursed her lips to retrieve the wine and then they curled up at him. "You look so solemn, Lord Commander. One would think that the news that Castle Black is going to be renovated completely would bring a smile to your face."

Jon's mask cracked and he breathed a wistful sigh, rolling the parchment so that he could grab his goblet, which had also been filled when he wasn't paying attention. "No, this is great news. This is probably the first bit of attention any lord or king has given us in a very long time. The timing is just…"

"Less than opportune?" she filled in.

"Yes," the wine tasted nearly rancid on his lips, but he forced it down, wondering how Elaine drank it without even the slightest hint of disdain.

"Well, know that as Lord Commander your input in the decisions on what is repaired or what it is turned into is quite important. In which case, I expect we'll be seeing a lot of each other, as I will be heading the contractors arriving here. Meanwhile, King Stannis plans to also stay to oversee the work."

Jon knew he would have to find Stannis later to thank him, even if it was not his coin or idea to do any of this in the first place. In the end, it was by Stannis's decree that made this possible and once he had the chance to share with his men their good fortune, he gleaned that the dark rut they had all been in would brighten considerably. Part of him thought of Grenn and Pyp, wishing that they could have been around to witness what was about to happen in the coming months.

"How do you like it?" Elaine's voice broke him from his thoughts. "Being Lord Commander, that is."

Jon let out a long breath. Typically a very guarded person, the pressure of those bright eyes made him relinquish a bit of information. "Busy," he started slowly. "I didn't realize how much work had gotten backed up since the Old Bear… Lord Mormont was in control. It's been a long time since someone has sat down to go over the stores, what repairs need to be made, and the work with the recruits. Although, a bit of that stress has just been lifted with your news."

"Glad I could brighten the abysmal atmosphere here just a bit, then," Elaine's lips turned up in a devilish smile that was unbefitting of a demure Southron lady, but then again, was she truly so demure? She lifted her goblet and proposed a toast, "To the Night's Watch."

After raising his own cup, the conversation leaned away from work and more toward life when it was simpler. "You grew up at Winterfell, right?" Lady Elaine asked him.

"Yes, Lord Eddard raised me alongside the rest of his children," Jon told her.

"Lord Eddard?" her brows pulled together. "Did you call your father lord to his face?"

"The situation was a bit… odd. Given my status as a bastard. His lady wife was not very fond of me."

"I suppose I can understand that a bit. She was bitter for something that you had no control over. A constant reminder that a person close to her had committed an atrocity and even if it wasn't your fault, she would still loathe you for it," she perfectly surmised Catelyn's attitude toward him. "I can certainly relate," she grumbled, poking at the soup in front of her.

"How?" Jon blurted out before he could stop himself. She was a high borne lady from one of the most prestigious families in all of Westeros. How could she truly understand what it was like to be a bastard?

Elaine raised herself, snapping erect as her lashes flickered downward and she narrowed her eyes at him. "I would have thought Samwell Tarly might have filled you in about why I'm not in my sister's position in King's Landing. _Why _I went to Dorne. Trust me Jon Snow, I understand what you went through better than anyone else except it was my own blood who spurned me. Perhaps Samwell could only speculate about what truly happened, but I'll tell you now that I did not go to Dorne of my own choice. My grandmother sent me after I was held down and fucked on my 17th name day. My father couldn't meet my eye after that, ashamed of me for something I had no control over. I was soiled, a waste of space, but his daughter nonetheless. His words meant nothing, what few he did give me.

"And the worst part about it? The knights who took everything from me didn't get justice. No, the green boy that had been their lookout was the scapegoat, but in my hysteria, how was I to know exactly which suspect it was? I had been drinking that day, so my account was muddled at best. So yes, Jon Snow, I perfectly understand what it's like to be a stranger in your own home. Whether it be my father, my siblings, or even the servants, I was scorned, people whispering behind my back as I passed."

Her gruff and blunt words left Jon at a loss. The graceful and beautiful Southron lady in front of him was frowning and she had staked her fork into the wooden table, her knuckles white from the force which she clenched it. "I didn't mean to offend you-"

"Offend me?" he'd done it now. He expected the Tyrell to rescind the decision she had made, but instead she relaxed and fell back into her chair, propping her chin on her hand as she glanced toward the window with a plain expression. "You haven't offended me, though the subject of my deflowering does rile me up. No," she sat back up and put her elbows on the table, staring openly at him. "I was just trying to point out to you Jon Snow that you seem to know nothing. At least about certain scenarios. I may not have been borne a bastard, but I became equal to one such as yourself when I was raped."

Her honesty was… rough and he tried not to flinch as she openly spoke about what happened to her. He even caught the strange wordplay, finding himself reminded of Ygritte as she told him he knew nothing. At that, his heart fluttered in his chest and he cleared his throat, wondering how the conversation might pick up from there. "You… speak of it quite brazenly."

Elaine shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Why not? It happened and I live with the consequences. I've had years to cry about it and feel sorry for myself. I see you also do not dwell on the fact that you are a bastard. Look how well you have done here as one of the youngest Lord Commanders the Night's Watch has seen. I've grown stronger from the trials I have been through, so there is no use in pretending that it never happened. Just think, if it never happened, I wouldn't be sitting here in front of you and Castle Black wouldn't be getting repairs."

Shifting uncomfortably, he said, "That doesn't mean I wish it on you just so that we could be working at this very moment."

Elaine chuckled. "No, of course not. You're quite like your father from what I hear, the honorable sort. I just wish the South had more people like you and maybe the little lordling who ravaged me would have been properly punished," she paused, cocking her head and tapping her finger on her lip. "You know, before it happened, I was engaged to Renly Baratheon… Rather lucky that things worked out as they did or else King Stannis might not like me as much."

"You've got a strange definition of luck."

"Consider it a part of my charm," she smirked before finishing her glass of wine. Her eyes turned to the window again and she let out a small yawn, covering her mouth with a dainty hand. "I shouldn't keep you all night, Lord Commander." There was a slight lilt in her voice when she addressed him by his title, as if she were mocking him playfully.

Jon stood up to help Lady Elaine to the door, offering her a hand up from her chair. Her palm was coarse, rough from the years of working a sword, and not as soft as he had been expecting. About to open the door for her, she paused to bend over and wish Ghost a good night. "Keep those schematics and think about anything you might want done specifically. Just be prepared for me to pester you about what I think might be beneficial," Elaine told him, turning her eyes up toward him as he cracked the door. Her proximity made it hard to swallow the lump in his throat.

"I expect I'll be seeing a lot of you, Lady Elaine."

"Oh don't sound so disappointed, Jon Snow," she told him cheerfully, flashing him a smile that men would kill for. "Til the morrow."

"Good night, Lady Elaine," he said before she flounced off into the night.

Only just having closed the door, Ghost stood up and seemed incredibly interested in him all of a sudden. Jon frowned at his companion and placed his hand on top of the dire wolf's head. "I didn't expect you to be so tame," he commented, running his fingers through the plush white fur.

Ghost glanced up at him with his crimson eyes, ever silent. He set his massive head on Jon's knee as he sat on the chair by the mantle. The beast seemed to always know what Jon was thinking. He sighed deeply, relaxing into the chair and staring up at the ceiling with bitterness. Perhaps in another life… things would have been different and they might have met under different circumstances… The offer from Stannis came up again. He could become a Stark, he could retake Winterfell, and then he would need a wife to produce heirs. He barely knew Elaine, but he was drawn in by her personality and her past.

Ghost licked his hand.

"Fine and her beauty," Jon grumbled, taking his other hand to place it over his face. How could the Gods curse him so? He'd been given the position of Lord Commander and now he could just grasp the life he had wanted most. Could he forsake that Wall? Especially as he knew what truly waited out there.

Before he could make a decision, a knock made him sit upright immediately. He got to his feet, wondering if Lady Elaine had forgotten an item and was returning to fetch it. Jon ran his fingers back through his hair and headed for the door, dismayed to see that it was the Red Priestess, Melisandre, and not Elaine.

"My lady," Jon said gruffly, trying to hide his disappointment.

"May I have a word, Lord Snow?" Melisandre asked in her soft, whispery voice.

Jon stepped out of her way and let her in. Sweeping by him a wave of bloody red, she glanced at the rolls of parchment that had been left by Elaine. She ran a finger over them delicately and then spun back around to face him. "What can I assist you with, my lady?" He wasn't really fond of Melisandre, but she was a trusted advisor of Stannis and he couldn't just rebuff her, even at this hour.

"Have you considered further about chasing the rats from your family's home?" Melisandre prompted.

Jon sighed, turning around to glance at the fire in the hearth. "I have," he began.

"King Stannis would reward you handsomely. He sees your value, even if many of your brothers do not. A royal pardon would absolve you of your oaths here," she crept up behind him and he could feel she was just little more than a pace away. "Name your price Jon Snow and I can convince him to give it to you."

Jon continued to stare at the fire. "No, my place is here."

Melisandre appeared not to hear him. "You would become a Stark, no longer bearing the bastard surname. Legitimate in the eyes of the realm… No, that's not what you crave," he heard papers scatter behind him and when he turned his eyes widened at Melisandre. With a simple tug, the front of her robes had opened to reveal her large supple breasts, her dark nipples hard from the chill no fire could truly chase away this far north. Her slender waist trailed down to soft, wide hips, her closed legs hiding the moist womanhood. She leaned back against his desk, causing more pieces to scatter and she opened her milky legs.

At this point Jon averted his eyes, cheeks and ears burning as the red woman tried to seduce him. "Get out," he muttered with a soft fury.

Melisandre's brows furrowed and then her mouth popped open. "Ah. You do crave it, but not from me," she strode forward in her nakedness, the open robes fluttering behind her. "I could convinced Stannis to wed the Tyrell to you, if that is what you crave. You have power in your blood and would make a fair match for her. Not exactly a fair maiden, but fair nonetheless."

Jon shuddered and slapped her hand out of the way before she could touch him. "_Out_," he growled, astounded that Ghost did not move against her.

Melisandre withdrew, glaring at him with her dark ruby eyes. She tied her robes back up and slithered toward the door. Before leaving she cast a scathing glance, "You know nothing, Jon Snow."


	4. Chapter 4

_As I've stated before, I wanted to warn you all that many of the timelines are going to be altered are changed completely (as well as mixed with lines from the books). Such as Sansa not marrying Ramsay and it being Jeyne Poole passed off as Arya. This chapter will contain some of the changes._

* * *

_Elaine _

Stannis was true to his word once she had received news that the masons, builders, carpenters, and various other workers would be delivered to Castle Black in due time. She knew that meant she would have to deal with his skulking, as he craved to be out retaking the North, than biding his time and do what needed to be done. He wanted results, not to spend time withering away in Castle Black. However, among her request for supplies to restore the castle, she intended for better supplies, cloth and fur for the brothers, a new tailor, and finer food and wine to be delivered from Highgarden. That had been her own finishing touch and it arrived with the Bravosi.

Since this had been her suggestion, Elaine was the one who would take the lead alongside of Lord Commander Jon Snow. She did not mind his company. In fact, she found it rather enjoyable to poke fun at him. He seemed to take it without much more than a small smile and rarely dished it back. She hoped that if she poked hard enough Lord Snow might finally retaliate, but the man had the patience that could rival the High Septon. She often spent dinners with him, discussing the work that was ongoing, and this led to a bit of small talk. Often she was leading the conversation, as Jon Snow seemed to not want to step on her toes, even though she'd explicitly told him it was rather difficult to offend her.

Still, his tiny smiles and rare chuckles brought a grin to her face. Perhaps more so than they should of. Was she making excuses to have dinner with him more oft than naught? He was the only high borne around her age and she did enjoy his company. Melisandre and Davos had certainly noticed, but neither of them had done anything inappropriate, they were simply entreating one another with work.

However, Jon Snow had left for Hardhome just a week ago, leaving her to focus on the task at hand. From what she understood, he was going to entreat the wildlings they had lost when killing Mance Rayder. For a reason unbeknownst to her, he insisted on having them move into The Gift to become residents of the North or join the Night's Watch. His sympathy was not shared by the rest of the Watch and she could hear their words in the shadows about their doubts and hatred for the decision. With Stannis firmly taking roost in Castle Black, they would not be making any hasty decisions to cross Jon, but savored the time he was gone.

_I do hope he alright, _she thought, glancing down at the blueprints she had altered with the help of Daarello Ahrios, the lead contractor and a wealthy merchant by trade. Daarello was a thick man with a dark obsidian mustache and curly shoulder length hair. He folded his brawny olive arms to oversee each bit of work was done and Elaine couldn't have been more pleased by the perfection that he sought.

"It is the least we can do to make certain it lasts," he had told her. "These men work hard to defend your people from the dangers beyond and deserve a keep that won't need constant fixing because someone was too lazy to do it the correct way."

"What timeframes do you expect on these parts?" Elaine asked him, updating the registers she had.

Daarello's mustache twisted. "The barracks will be done first, within the week. The additional rooms and towers intended for officers or nobles will be another few weeks, seeing a lot of infrastructure needs to be repaired. Many beams were rotted and we have to replace them along with what roofing remains. After that we will take our assault on the new latrines and have the brother allocate their belongings into this newer section of the castle so that we can do the repairs for what they currently use."

Just a month in and she was thoroughly impressed by the workers. They worked in shifts, going round the clock 24 hours, swapping off for a certain part of the day so that everything was done as swiftly as possible. Elaine had a feeling that the Bravosi did not want to get stuck at Castle Black when winter came and were trying to be done fast. This group's contract did not mention Shadow Tower or East Watch. Those would be completed at a later date and probably after winter, which unfortunately was just around the bend.

"My lady," a less than courteous voice inclined and when she turned Ser Axell Florent was standing nearby. He was a short and muscular man with thick arms and bandy legs. His ears flared out in the same manner as Queen Selyse, a Florent trademark. To compound with his stout phsyique, Axell had a broad nose, close set eyes, and a saggy double chin, hair sticking out of his ears and nose. Homely and stocky, he didn't have a favorable personality to make up for it.

"Ser Axell, how many I assist you?" she asked kindly, though under his badger-like gaze, it took quite a good deal of self control to not hiss at the loathing on his face.

All the Florents hated the Tyrells. For both the fact that the Tyrells were considerably better looking and that the Tyrells had succeeded them in Highgarden through a female descendant rather than male. Elaine already had to deal with the Queen's scathing looks and had it not been for Melisandre's favor of her, she might have been living in much more unfavorable conditions. Axell was no different, he'd renounced his own brother as a traitor, and no doubt felt the same about the Tyrells despite Elaine's testament toward their intentions.

"The king requests your attendance," Ser Axell informed her, the castellan of Stannis, uncle to Selyse, and fastly devoted to the Lord of Light.

"Very well, Daarello I shall hand it off to you from here?" she glanced over at the Bravosi beside her.

"Of course, my lady, nothing for you to fear," he told her.

Flashing a smile at Daarello, she followed Ser Axell to the Lord Commander chambers that Stannis had been utilizing during their stay. Hopefully, the royal family would be able to move into the newer rooms in just a few moons while they continued to work strategtically to gain the support of the North.

Elaine wondered the nature of her summoning. She knew that Stannis intended to entreat the Mountain Clans soon, but had been expecting him to wait for Snow to return. Either way, Stannis saw fit to bring her forth when he was curious as to how the work was going or what her thoughts on tactics of gaining more strength. Thus far, he had listened and abated his idea of attacking Winterfell with too many enemies surrounding him. As predicted, no one would march on Castle Black, which made for a poor fortress from the rear that faced that Seven Kingdoms.

Inside of King's Tower there was a small committee waiting for her arrival. Ser Axell poised himself near his niece, Selyse, and Davos stood at an awkward length from Stannis, trying to not get too near to Melisandre. Strangely, even Shireen was in the room, which meant that this conversation was probably not going to delve too deeply into Stannis's plans to regain the North. In fact, he often kept Selyse away for those decisions, favoring what the Red Priestess had to tell him instead.

"Your grace," she bowed to Stannis first before doling the same attention to Selyse and finally Shireen. Puzzled, her clear eyes fastened on her king and she waited until he addressed her.

"Sit," Stannis beckoned her to join them by the table and she accepted the last vacant spot, which was between Melisandre and Shireen. "I have brought you all here tonight to discuss the preparations intended for the Mountain Clans. Upon for original conversation with Lord Commander Snow, I have decided to entreat them personally on joining my ranks."

"Entreat?" Selyse asked, her voice shrill and her homely face scowling, ears stuck out from behind where her mousy brown hair was tucked. "You are the one true king of the Seven Kingdoms, you shouldn't have to beggar them to join."

Stannis tensed, locking his jaw as he swept his eyes across the table to give his wife an icy glare. Selyse appeared unperturbed by his look and leveled her own eyes defiantly. "I will not be beggaring them," he informed her, clearly punctuating each word. "As king, diplomacy has its uses. Lord Commander Snow has suggested what manners I can persuade them to join me and I have taken said accounts into consideration."

The second mention of Jon Snow made Selyse narrow her eyes, but she held her tongue this time. "Is that all then? How shortly will you be leaving to 'entreat' these savages?"

"I shall be leaving come nightfall. I intend for half of the Florents and the Velaryons to remain here while I take Bar Emmon forces with me," Stannis informed her stoutly.

_Enough to keep his back covered while he moves, but a small enough amount that they can move swiftly and mounted_, Elaine thought, nodding slowly in tandem with Ser Davos.

"Melisandre will remain here at Castle Black and Ser Davos shall come with me," Stannis added.

_Good, hopefully Davos will keep true to Jon's plans if Stannis brushes close with his pride,_ Elaine contemplated silently, glancing over at the older knight she had grown fond of.

"However, the topic of which brought all of us together..." Stannis drawled, sweeping his gaze around the table. "With all of the alliances coming forth, no doubt one of the major houses of the North will require more convicing than others. After considerable delegation, I have decided it is time that my daughter, Princess Shireen, is trained in a more courtly fashion. Lady Elaine?"

Elaine turned her head to look at Stannis. "Yes, your grace?"

"I am appointing you as governess to my daughter. Shireen needs the proper guidance of a woman who has stood in court, whether that be at King's Landing or in Dorne. Thus far, you have proven yourself as the type of lady that I would hope Shireen could develop into and I believe that under your tutelage, she might."

Being the governess of the princess was not exactly something that everyone in the room was interested in, however, Selyse was clearly not aware of the decision. She frowned deeply and she became rather redfaced, staying her tongue so that she would not renounce her husband's decision for a second time that meeting. The Florent princess to be taught by a Tyrell? To Selyse it was a scandal and an offense, to Stannis, he saw nothing wrong. Ser Axell was also just as displeased by the news, his chins quivering slightly in distaste.

Shireen glanced over at Elaine, turning her striking blue eyes up at the Tyrell, gazing imploringly. Had Shireen asked her father for this? She knew that the girl adored her and had wanted to learn the sword. Now, in the face of so many enemies and the whispers of Melisandre, perhaps Stannis thought it wise that the princess could lift a weapon in her defense.

"It would be my honor, your grace," she told Stannis, trying to wrap her head around how she would fit in lessons with the work on the towers.

"And if you would now, there are a few more sensitive topics I would like to discuss with my small council," Stannis was dismissing them.

Elaine bowed her head respectfully and motioned for Shireen to follow her. The stone-faced princess trotted after her with the largest smile the woman had witnessed yet. Usually, Shireen was a kind and curious child, but due to her condition she was withdrawn. In part due to her mother keeping her away from everyone, Shireen often did not know how to reflect her feelings.

Just outside the door to where the council was meeting, Shireen spoke, "I didn't think father would do it."

"This was your idea?" Elaine felt a small smirk come to her lips.

"Mother was speaking about how I may have to marry one of the northerners to secure an alliance, but... I've never sat in a court, I've always been at Dragonstone. I don't want to seem inexperienced or stupid if I have to entreat lords on my father's behalf," Shireen twiddled her fingers and gave her a sheepish smile.

"Clever princess... but I also expect you requested me for other reasons aside from my experience in court. What you wish to achieve... Shall be strenous and testing," Elaine warned her.

"I know," Shireen told her brightly. "When can we start?"

"After you have the proper attire to do so. I can see if Castle Black has some clothes that might fit you, but we can't have you training in dresses. Until then, we'll work on ettiquette and mannerisms. Let's go to my chambers where we can begin," Elaine informed her before leading the princess to the room she had been allowed during their stay. It wasn't anywhere near as large as the King's Tower, but she had managed to make it has homey as possible. She had a Sunspear banner on the wall flanked by the Tyrell. A flaming heart stag was emblazoned on her saddle bags, a more recently gained item. The patches had been recovered from fallen knights and given to her so that she could wear her king's sigil.

A few assorted weapons, including her triagular bladed sword were hung in the corner. She didn't often take it out during the day as she tended to her duties with the contractors, but kept a dirk hidden beneath her skirts and a small stilletto in her sleeve. Dusting the small, beaten wooden table off, she ran her fingers over the Meereenese silk before glancing at Shireen.

She had her father's strong jaw and eyes, her mother's awfully large ears, and had her left cheek not been marred by the Greyscale, she might have grown up to be a modest and somewhat comely woman. However, the stoney patch that ran down her cheek and neck would forever make others leery of her, worried that a simple touch would result in an outbreak the atrocious disease. The boon Shireen would have to live with the rest of her life, similar to that of what Elaine suffered.

Shireen's ambition to learn how to use her wit was amicable, but Elaine knew the girl was soft and kind. Molding her to be as sharp as dragonglass was going to be an ardous process.

"What do you think the games of court entail?" she asked Shireen, wondering at what point they would begin.

"I know we're not in King's Landing, but the court is based on games of speech and how much you know. For women the power they possess is in their..." Shireen trailed off.

"Go on," Elaine ushered.

"Their beauty," she cast her eyes dolefully at the table, picking at the silk in a sulky manner.

"Certainly beauty does help a lady in court, but not every man or woman who plays the game is comely. Have you met Lord Varys? Have you met my grandmother? My grandmother is a pruny, grouchy thing and yet she possesses a great deal of power and sway in the court."

Shireen smiled slightly at Elaine bashing her grandmother. "Then power is also in what your house has?"

"Power is where men believe it is," Elaine told the child, a girl no more than 13 years. "You are the daughter to a king, a princess, and so you hold more power than you think. However, what you must work on first Shireen is your confidence. If you hold your head high and speak with dignity, you will witness more listening. You are nearly a woman grown and those around you should not view you as a girl. Become the princess that you are."

This would not be an instant transformation and she knew there would be a lot of building Shireen's confidence. She could wield the greyscale marking as a weapon, a testament to how hard she had tried to survive. Her scars would not be a badge of shame unless she allowed it to be. Her knowledge would also be a weapon and Elaine learned that Shireen was well read. The child probably had little else to do in her room other than read and while she loved the romantic novels of legend, she had also learned a great deal about Westeros through the late maester who would tutor her.

After revisiting the houses of the North, specifically those they were trying to win to their cause, Elaine escorted Shireen back to her tower room. Night had fallen over Castle Black nad only the few sparse sconces illuminated the inkiness. With their dark attire, the black brothers were only visible when in the tiltyard or passing by a torch. Flitting around like shadows, most appeared to be in the mess hall where they were having dinner. Certainly much more enjoyable than it had been in the years past, seeing that the Tyrells had sent a large shipment of food and livestock along with the Bravosi.

Elaine was making her rounds when a knight with the Florent fox upon his breast stopped her. "My lady, one of the contractors was looking for you in the area dug out for the new latrine pit," the knight told her politely.

Without an afterthought, Elaine nodded and thanked him.

The latrine pits weren't to be worked on for some time, not unless Daarello had come into another unforeseen issue. Darkness was thickest round the bend of half erected buildings, stripped down to their bones. She did not see the fist that flew at her face, taking her by the eye. Impulsively she stepped back, her head reeling as she fumbled for a weapon. The world was spinning and she couldn't quite make out who was in front of her.

While she was still trying to recover she was smashed back against a cold stone wall, the damp rocks seeping through her cloak and gown, wind knocked out of her. Wincing, the moon casted a slender finger of light and she realized it was a man in black that was pinning her to the wall.

Janos Slynt, or one of the Crows that gave Jon problems, had her tight against the wall. He was a stout man with jowls and a bald pat, build like a keg and possessing froggy facial features. "You're coming with me."

"And where would that be to?" she chirped feeling her dagger slide down to her fingertips. Her head still pounded and her eye was swelling where she had been hit, making it difficult to see.

"I'll get a pardon if I give the queen your head," Janos sneered, eyes bright at the prospect of not being a man of the Night's Watch.

"Do you really think you'd make it all the way to King's Landing with my head?" Elaine snipped back in a voice full of mirth and cold mocking.

"King's Landing..." Janos paused and then snorted at her. "I'll be far from here and it won't matter."

"It will when Jon Snow comes after you," Elaine told him.

"Jon Snow?" Janos barked a laugh, spittle flying on her face. "Thorne mentioned he was spending a lot of time with the smirking whore from Highgarden. Where's your Lord Snow now? He can't protect you from Hardhome."

"Smirking whore? Hm, that's quite a name. I think I like it," Elaine mused, Janos tightening his grip on her in distaste.

"Then there must be some truth behind it. Lord Snow gets a taste of a wildling cunt and now can't resist that of a highborne when she parades into Castle Black. I can't blame him though. How about before I kill you, I bend you over just like Lord Snow probably has every night since your arrival?" His free hand moved toward her skirt.

Dexterously, she brought the stiletto up and drove it through the gap between his sword belt and leather jerkin. The castle forged steel slid into his side like butter and Janos gasped in pain, releasing her from his grasp. Elaine reached up her skirt and retrieved the dirk that had been strapped to her thigh, watching as Janos scrabbled for the hilt of the stiletto. Jerking the collar of his black cloak, she poised the dirk at his throat.

"Give me one reason," she whispered in a silky voice. "It wouldn't be a quick death, oh no, I would make certain just to graze the artery and watch as you bleed, trying to breathe, only to find that you're choking on your own blood. I could also ask the Bravosi to put you in a room so I can do as I please. There are plenty of places I could hide you... A beautiful, one night stand. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

Janos shuddered at her words. "I never, milady-" he stammered for words, but could find no excuse now that he no longer had the element of surprise and was wounded.

"Never what? You clearly stated you wished to kill me for a pardon from the Night's Watch. Unless my ears betrayed me... No, I don't think I'll leave you for Lord Snow. I have no doubt he knows what to do with men who attack a highborne lady in the dead of night."

_Jon_

Hardhome had been a brutal wake up call. With the events heavy on his shoulders, Jon returned to Castle Black with many wildlings in tow.

_But not all of them_, he thought bitterly. He had not gone soon enough, for just as he arrived, the Night King also brought forth his army to try and consume the wildlings that remained. Thousands of Freefolk had died and now he had to bring forth the remaining before Stannis. They would have to bend the knee, there was no doubt about that, but it wasn't this prospect that weighed so heavily on him. Mothers, children, brothers, elderly... All dead because he had dallied in Tormund's suggestion in going to Hardhome. Had he been there a week earlier or even a day, he could have saved so many more.

"So that king is here with you now?" Tormund inquired, scratching at his fiery beard. Unlike Jon, he didn't let what had happened bother him as much. That or he was much better at dealing with it.

"Yes," Jon was not excited for the wildlings to intermingle with Stannis's forces or the brothers of the Watch. Many had tried to argue with his decision to go to Hardhome, believing it was a waste of time. But if he hadn't gone there, even more souls would have been added to the army of the dead. They hadn't seen Him, they didn't know what horrors were outside the walls.

"And he wants to talk with us? Ye know as well as I do, people haven't forgotten what he's done to Mance. Word traveled fast after he offered him up to that fire god."

"The Lord of Light," Jon corrected.

"Yeah whatever. I trust you Jon and if you think it's wise to bend a knee before this Stannis-"

"King Stannis, you'll need to call him by his proper title if you agree to kneel before him."

"King Stannis," Tormund continued, rolling his eyes. "Then I'll do it. I can't make the same promise for the rest of this lot."

"They'll get safety in return for it. Space has been allocated in The Gift for those who wish to start a new life. Others who are able to fight will be requisitioned by King Stannis until the war is over."

"The War of Kings? Don't they know there's a Night King north of the Wall that'll kill them all?"

"The kingdom must be united before they can even consider fighting the Night King," Jon told him grimly. "And King Stannis is the only one who answered our ravens. Not to mention he's rebuilding Castle Black for us."

"Huh, that pile of shit? Am I going to get one of the rooms with a bathing tub or my own pot to take a steaming crap in?"

Jon sighed and shook his head at him. "I just need your assistance when it comes to keeping the Freefolk in line. They listen to you Tormund and there's a topic I need to address. Culture for my people is very unlike yours. There are going to be some highborne women at Castle Black."

"Oooh," Tormund's bushy brows shot up in interest. "Any suit your fancy? Highborne means pretty right?"

"And the Freefolks' way of stealing women they wish to claim-"

"Not acceptable I'm guessing?" Tormund gleaned.

"Not unless you'd be willing to lose your head."

"Boring," Tormund yawned, eyes listing forward as the gate to Castle Black opened up like an enormous, gaping mouth, on the side of the Wall. "I'll keep em in check as best I can... Well, except for Wun Wun, I can't control that one."

Wun Wun was the giant that accompanied them, but Jon wasn't too worried about him trying to rape the highborne ladies. Should he have been? Portcullis groaning like a ghoul, the large throng of wildlings followed Jon and Tormund through the dark tunnel. What were they thinking? Were they worried that they had just come to meet their demise? Perhaps for some, that would be the truth. There were few places left to turn and at least this path would mean they wouldn't be ruthlessly hunted by the Northerners.

The tiltyard was bustling with black brothers and Florent soldiers, all waiting to see what would happen with the wildlings. Hands were fast on sword hilts, but in spite of the tension, on the second floor balconies, Queen Selyse stood with Ser Axell at her right and Melisandre to her left. Flanking the Red Priestess was Shireen and Lady Elaine, a welcoming sight, though Jon thought he noticed a strange discoloration on her face. It was difficult to tell from the distance between them.

Dismounting his horse, Jon strode forward with Tormund, glancing around for King Stannis.

"Your grace," Jon addressed, taking a knee as Selyse gazed down at him.

Tormund glanced at him and then, as if it took a great deal of effort, forced himself to a knee as well. A wave of muttering broke out among the yard, specifically from the wildlings.

"Rise Lord Commander and welcome back to Castle Black," Queen Selyse said coolly. "From your original reports, there were supposed to be... more."

"An unforeseen threat attacked Hardhome. Behind me stand the survivors," Jon informed her, watching as Melisandre bowed into the Queen's large ear and whispered something, enlightening her to the situation.

Selyse's eyes grew wide and she nodded. "Very well, the secondary barracks have been completed. For now, the Freefolk can be quarantined there until the king returns from his dealings with the Mountain Clans. Florent knights will be posted to watch them and there shall be no interference from the Night's Watch until their fate has been decided. Is that clear?" At this she was speaking to the Crows who were glaring at their sworn enemies, unwilling to remove their hands from weapons. "After you have collected yourself, there is another issue that needs tending. Lady Tyrell shall brief you on the situation and inform me of your decision."

"Very well, your grace," Jon bid, wondering what the other task was. How much could have gone wrong while he was away? Jon didn't have time to dwell on it as the wildlings were corralled toward the new barracks and Florent emblazoned soldiers and knights closed in around the entrance and exits for their protection. Catching Tormund by the arm, he said, "Settle in with everyone. It shouldn't be too long before the king returns. And for the safety of everyone, stay in there."

Tormund grinned at him. "Would you just look at them? We get the shiny new building with golden shit pots. I'd be mad too."  
_  
That's not why they're upset,_ Jon thought, but let the wildling go with the rest. He had originally wanted nothing more than a hot bath, perhaps he might be afforded one, but he couldn't help but wonder what else had occurred in his absence. Alliser Thorne didn't approach to bother him, but did shoot a scathing and disapproving look before disappearing into the garrison. Suppressing a sigh, Jon answered a few questions the Florents had for him regarding the Freefolk before he was allowed to go up to his temporary chambers.

By some grace of the Gods, a bath was already waiting for him. Ghost snuffed loudly and then settled by the fireplace, curling up comfortably before Jon shut the door behind him. Had he been mistaken when he spotted Lady Elaine? Perhaps it had been how the light hit her that it appeared as if one side of her face was discolored.

Jon had just gotten into the bath when the door opened, without warning, and Samwell hurried in. When he turned round and realized that Jon was in the bath, he turned slightly. "S-sorry, I just thought I might be able to speak to you before you held trial."

"Trial?" Jon echoed, the heat of the bath sinking delightfully into his flesh, unfreezing the muscles that had been tense the entire way back from Hardhome.

"The issue that Queen Selyse mentioned? It's in regards to one of the brothers," Sam told him.

Jon sat up. "What do you mean?"

"Janos Slynt has been confined to a cell since last week. He attacked Lady Elaine one evening. He must be in contact with King's Landing, because he intended to bring Queen Cersei her head for a pardon. Fortunately, Lady Elaine isn't helpless, but..."

No wonder Alliser hadn't wanted to talk to him. Janos and Alliser had been as thick as thieves upon the arrival of the ex-commander of the Golden Cloaks. Jon never forgot that Janos was part of the reason his father had died, betrayed by Janos and Littlefinger, but he had to remain neutral toward all crimes that happened in the Seven Kingdoms. Thus, he had barely tolerated Janos. Old habits of betraying nobles of high houses died hard with this one.

"But if she had been, Janos Slynt would be gone and Lady Elaine dead," Jon filled in darkly. The thought made his stomach twist. So many lost in Hardhome. What would he have done if he returned to discover that Lady Elaine was dead? For the first time in a long time, it was like there was something worth protecting in his life. Ygritte had been different. Between him and the wildling, it had been a passion and fire, wrong but it felt so right. Lady Elaine was the rose he could never have, one that didn't prick him when he marveled at her. To think that she too had also been claimed by the frosts of winter made him put a hand to his temple.

Such feelings were inappropriate at the Lord Commander, but he'd tried many times to put them aside. The self control he had was fizzing away like the life in Hardhome as it had been taken by the Night King. There was so much that needed to be done and yet the offer from Stannis still stood, tantalizing and seductive. Would Stannis consider him worthy of a Tyrell? Would the Tyrell even have him?

_You're a fool Jon Snow_, he thought, Ygritte's voice echoing in his head. He couldn't leave. Not yet. Perhaps... Perhaps if he could resolve the wildling situation and wait until the renovations were completed, allowing Alliser to step up would alleviate the tension that now stood due to his most recent decisions. As Lord Stark, if Jon pardoned the Freefolk in The Gift, the Night's Watch could not touch them.

Trapped in his own thoughts, he'd nearly forgotten that Sam was still in the room. "I'll deal with him as I see fit," Jon told Sam finally.

"Jon... What happened at Hardhome? I thought there were supposed to be more wildlings."

Jon swept his grey gaze over to Sam, catching his eyes and holding them for a moment. Sam knew well enough about the monsters beyond the Wall and without a word, understood what Jon meant. Slowly nodding in recognition, Samwell pardoned himself and left Jon to brood.

Jon stayed in the bath for a while longer, staring at the hand he had burned a few years ago when intercepting the white walker that was trying to kill Lord Mormont. Was Castle Black really a home anymore? Two of his best friends had died and slowly, but certainly, his decisions were turning the rest of the brothers against him. If not for the presence of Stannis, he expected a mutiny might have come around if given the chance.

Jon had just finished drying off and buttoning his undershirt when a knock drew his attention. He recognized the steady thrum, loud enough to be heard, but not a harsh banging that many of the brothers used. Ghost got to his paws and padded over, waiting eagerly for Jon to open the door.

On the other side, Lady Elaine was waiting, her left cheekbone and eye still recovering from a bruise, molted in purple and yellow. Her eye appeared fine, having recovered before her skin. Her clear blue irises rooting him to his spot as Ghost tried to nose his way through the open gap in the door.

Elaine bent down to green the dire wolf, burying her fingers in his snowy fur. "Oh, I know. I missed you too Ghost," the Tyrell told the canine, who went straight for the side of her face that had been injured. Unlike himself, the wolf reached out and licked her cheek, causing Elaine to giggle. "If kisses could heal, I bet yours would."

_How could anyone want to kill her_? Jon wondered as she stood back up, a hand remaining on Ghost.

Jon let Elaine breeze past him into the study, her luminous curls dancing in the air as she moved. "I assume Tarly has spoken with you already?" she cut to the chase, crossing her arms as he closed the door.

"Yes, Janos Slynt did that to you?" Jon asked.

"Unmistakably. Took a thorn to the side and began crying like a babe when I said I would leave him for your judgement... Well... a few other things I said may have made him blubber, but I'd rather not repeat those. They're rather unladylike," Elaine said loftily, glancing at her fingernails. That evening the willowy lady had not come to greet him, but the blue rose covered in thorns. Her eyes snapped up and a smile unfolded on her lips. "I am glad you made it back safely, Lord Commander."

Gaze snared in hers like a rabbit in a trap, Jon sighed and felt her contagious smile crack at his face. "I wish I could return and say the same for you."

Elaine waved him off. "This? Nothing but an irritant. I'm perfectly fine. Slynt is the one who had to get stitches," she informed him, a roguish sort of pride in telling him that.

"Did you have anyone inspect it? Your vision isn't bothering you?"

Elaine cocked her head at him and then smirked. The woman had a bit of a trademark smile, one that twisted her lips halfway on one side and had a mischievous foxlike quality to it. "Am I one of your charges now, Lord Snow?"

"You are staying under my protection in my garrison," he reminded her, striding toward her so that he could get a better look at her. In the fortnight, a bit of color had left her skin that she had gotten from Dorne. Fair or sunkissed, both tones suited her. "Did you get it checked?"

"Ghost checked it for me," she retorted glibly.

"I'm relieved, but still... worried."

"Perhaps it would be wise to worry less. I can take care of myself and... Rumors are already circulating in Castle Black about us. I know a lot of our work creates an overlap as I oversee the repairs to Castle Black, but you men are already upset that you've brought wildlings here. If they notice that you're keeping close to me..."

Jon knew that they work together had drawn suspicion from his brothers, even though nothing had happened. But the idea of seeing her less left a bitter taste in his mouth. Was it too late? "Most of my men already hate me. My work does overlap with yours and I cannot help what I-" his voice caught in his throat, realizing what he had been about to say. "I care for you, Lady Elaine."

A pained expression spasmed over Elaine's face before she settled on a sorrowful look. "I... Jon don't say such things. It'll make much more of a mess," her voice was soft and her eyes gazed up at him mistily, as if she were about to cry.

Jon pursed his lips. "My duty is here, but..."

"The path is open. If you wanted this to be more... You need only take Stannis up on his offer," she reminded him gently.

The answer was so simple, even Elaine was guiding him in that direction. "I can't leave them. Not yet. I have to be certain that the Freefolk are given what they're promised. There are commitments I cannot forsake," but right before him stood a reason why he might have just tossed it all away. A chance for love with one of the most beautiful women in Westeros? Even that wasn't certain and if he were too hasty he could lose more than just a woman who plagued his dreams.

"Do what you must, but there is an expiration date on Stannis's offer. You cannot expect him to wait for more than what time takes to restore Castle Black. His intentions are to win over the North in the meanwhile and he could do that better with a Stark by his side."

"I'm not a true Stark," Jon said bluntly.

"You always have been," she replied defiantly, her eyes intent despite how sad they looked. Jon wanted to hold her, to assure her that from then on everything would work out. But he didn't know if he could ever step down. For all he knew, it was an idle fancy and Elaine was the rose he could never reach. "I... shouldn't stay here too much longer."

Jon followed her to the door, pausing longer than he had intended before opening it. She turned, glancing up at him, arching a delicate brow to question him. What madness drove him, he did not know as he brushed his thumb against her cheekbone where she had been struck. Elaine blinked rapidly, her lashes fluttering against the tips of his fingers. Sky blue pinned him and he fell into that summer sky, hand on her face, skin as soft as flower petals. Her breath against his chest, clearly just as flustered as he was.

"Don't do something you'll make us both regret," Elaine whispered.

Realizing what he was doing finally, Jon drew his hand back. "I'm sorry," he muttered as her eyes followed his hand.

"I'm not," she stood on the tips of her toes and her lips brushed his cheek. "Perhaps one day." And she left him, her kiss lingering on him like a ghost.

Jon pressed his forehead to the door, wishing that she could have remained. Janos Slynt.


	5. Chapter 5

_Elaine_

In Dorne, she had played with many hearts. Men would devote to a woman purely based on appearance. Others required the game of silver tongues to follow, but in the end they all wanted the same thing. They all wanted her in bed to see the Tyrell rose reduced to nothing more than a decoration on a bed. And once they conquered her, they would leave. Ellaria would say that Elaine was more suitably named 'The Desert Rose', for she would drive men on wild chases, but leave them high and dry. Dorne was a highly sexual place, where men or women were not judged for whom they laid with. Love, however fleeting, was something that could not be contained.

At least, these words had never swayed Elaine and she'd only laid in one person's bed… well, two if you counted his partner, her entire time there. Oberyn and Ellaria provided her the foundation she never had from her own family and while they too had been just as eager to taste The Desert Rose, Elaine did not hate them for it. No, they had showed her true love. Ellaria had been devoted to Oberyn, but she also did not mind if anyone slept with him. Oberyn would always return to her. Elaine didn't know how the woman didn't get jealous. Or how Ellaria had willingly shared the bed with her and Oberyn. That had taken getting used to. But Elaine's exotic and passionate past in Dorne had helped her grow and Oberyn had helped her heal the wounds that cut deep into her flesh from her 17th nameday. Sex was not an awful thing, it could be sensual and warm, befuddling and vexing… Perhaps she had explored a little too much, but it didn't matter.

Now she was in the North and she was becoming cross with herself that she was acting like a naive maiden. Well… not quite, but that's how she felt around Jon Snow when compared to her prowess in Sunspear. A kiss here a kiss there, poisoned words and coy smiles. Black and white replaced the gold, warm oranges, and heat of the desert utopia. She didn't feel as cold as she should have, but she contemplated the occurrences at Castle Black, turning over a teardrop shaped vial, a gift from the Sand Snakes; the Long Farewell. What would they think now of her? Would they tease at her? Laugh at her for like such a droll, predictable man? When she was younger, she dreamed that there might be men honorable like in the stories. After her 17th name day she didn't believe any existed.

_What a cruel trick the Gods play on me, _she thought. Maybe it was too much to hope for. Perhaps Jon Snow simply was enchanted by her appearance. Being a man of the Night's Watch, unable to fuck anything must have been vexing as a man.

Heaving a sigh, she stood and looked in the mirror. It was time to go. Janos Slynt was being executed.

The day was bright, though the sky was still molted with clouds that threatened to snow. Stannis had returned at dawn and waited alongside of his wife and Melisandre to watch the outcome. No noose had been hung, much to everyone's surprise. It wasn't until two brothers brought out Janos that Elaine knew why. Jon followed closely behind has he was brought up on the dias and Janos was left quivering on the wooden platform, trying to conjure an excuse as to why he should be spared. He could not take the black, for he already had and had defiled it since.

Joining her liege, her fingers tightened on the railing as Jon Snow spoke loudly. "Today Janos Slynt is guilty in sight of Gods and Men of attempted murder of Lady Elaine Tyrell of Highgarden. Do you have any final words?" his fingers tightly gripped the hilt of Longclaw. Janos had nothing to offer other than groveling and was thrust in front of the headsman block. With a fatal swing, the Valyrian steel came down like a cleaver and severed the man's head in one fell swoop.

Grim satisfaction possessed her and a wry thought passed her mind. _I kind of wish he bent me over every night since my arrival, Janos. _

"Good," Stannis grumbled. "Slynt had it coming to him since he betrayed Eddard. It's only in the right that his son should be able to take his head…" he paused, considering for a moment. "Although, I'm not too certain that he's Eddard's bastard. Eddard was not the type of man to flounce off with a tavern wench one fateful evening. There is a great deal of Stark in Snow."

Elaine glanced back at Jon, her cheeks burning not only from the sting of the cold wind, but his grey gaze as he looked up at where they stood. Killing Janos hadn't been about his father, even if it did feel good send him to the Seven Hells. He had been punished for his attempt on her life and Jon was looking at her. Thankful that she was beside the King and Queen, she turned to Shireen, who had been forced to witness the beheading at command of her father.

"Princess…" Elaine drawled, wondering how she was coping with the death.

Shireen was hard to read while she had her greyscaled side turned to her. After a moment, the girl turned looked up intently at Elaine. "He deserved it. He shouldn't have tried to kill you," the princess sniffed, unruffled by what she had just witnessed.

"Yes, he did. It was up to Lord Commander Snow to make that decision," Elaine nodded. "Have you continued to learn your Northern houses? I'm going to test you today."

Before Shireen could answer her, Stannis turned to them. "Lady Elaine, a word," the king summoned, beckoning for her to follow him toward the elevator leading up to the top of the wall.

Elaine swallowed heavily. "Yes, your grace," she bid, legs becoming weak as they boarded the accursed contraption. With a low groan, the ropes and chains began working, slowly pulling them away from the safety of the ground. Pulling her cloak closer to try and comfort herself, she waited nervously for Stannis. "How did your meeting go, your grace?" Had she ever been alone with just Stannis before? No, Melisandre was typically always with him or they were in a meeting with the small council.

"The Flints, Wulls, Norreys, Burleys, Harclays, Liddles, and Knotts have all agreed to join. With winter coming they fear their lack of resources and so I was able to arrange that trade routes would make certain that they are well stocked. They would prefer to follow a Stark, but stated that Eddard Stark's declaration shall suffice for now," Stannis informed her stoutly.

_For now? Jon… _she realized solemnly. "A small victory, your grace. One of many to come."

"Yes, so says the Red Woman and her fires… But it was Jon Snow's words that saved me," wind broke up the conversation and Elaine felt ill as the elevator swayed dangerously. "After what happened with Janos Slynt, I do not think it wise to keep you here."

Her face was already scant of blood, which all came rushing back at moment. There was nothing charming about Castle Black. Any noble house would be suitable to host her, but that was beside the point.

"You are too valuable an asset to have some traitor steal away in the night. The Bravosi will complete the work with or without you. I want you to entreat Lord Manderly. He evades answering Bolton or I, putting it off. Aside from Lord Karstark and Umber, he hosts the largest remaining military in the North. Umber I am already dealing with… but Manderly is much further than I'd like to extend my army. I intend to send a small group of Velaryons to escort you south to White Harbor. Lord Manderly cannot ignore an envoy and I know you are capable of twisting arms in a charming manner."

Elaine licked her lips, dried by the wind this high. "Your grace, that is a dangerous trip," it required slipping between the lines of Winterfell and Dreadfort.

"And you are a cunning woman who made it all the way to Dragonstone. I intend to also sent my wife and daughter away for now. Perhaps they shall eventually join you in White Harbor, but your presence is needed there. Especially after what has happened in King's Landing."

"What has happened in King's Landing…" her brows furrowed and she glanced at Stannis.

"A raven came today," he pulled the small piece of parchment from his cloak.

' _In Declaration of King Tommen Baratheon,_

_House Tyrell is hereby named as a traitor to the realm and Seven Kingdoms. All titles, ownership, and land is renounced. Any houses that support House Tyrell are branded as traitors to the one true king. _

_Wanted for conspiring the murder of late King Joffrey is Olenna Tyrell, Loras Tyrell, and Mace Tyrell. Whoever can bring the heads of said Tyrells, to also include Elaine Tyrell, will be awarded generously.'_

Elaine was shocked into silence, rereading the short declaration several times before she could even speak. How had her grandmother been so careless to betray that she killed Joffrey? What also unsettled her was that not all of her family was listed. Noticing that she was having difficulty speaking, Stannis started without her.

"King Joffrey was poisoned at his wedding. It was deduced that the Tyrells had done it. By then Olenna Tyrell was back in Highgarden and Loras Tyrell was nowhere to be found. However, Margaery Tyrell was not so fortunate. She was taken into custody the evening in question and has since been hung after these announcements were written," Stannis elaborated, flashing another note that betrayed more of the events.

"My other brothers and my mother…" Elaine felt like vomiting, a combination of shock, disbelief, and grief overwhelming her all at once. Margaery had been barely more than a girl and yet she had been been hung, her head no doubt decorating the parapets in the Red Keep. The daughter of promise was dead.

"Are likely in the custody of the Lannisters. Willas and Garlan were not mentioned and seeing that Highgarden was renounced, the Lannisters probably went to siege it, discovering the keep was empty."

"So it's just as probable that the rest of my family has been apprehended and awaits trial," Elaine realized darkly.

"Yes," Stannis nodded, eyes turned toward the sky that rose to greet them. "Which brings me to another subject. If the Tyrells persist with their numbers, I understand that they shall add a formidable account to my cause. On the other hand, if they were captured and did not manage to escape, you still remain a ward in my care, without money or swords to swear."

Elaine did not like where Stannis was going with this.

"Jon Snow accepted my offer, but only with the clause that he completed his work with the wildlings. I intend on giving them a choice today; bend the knee or be put to the sword. I am willing to part with a good portion of The Gift for them to build their homes and the men must still fight for me or a Stark. He intends to keep this decision quiet until the date of his departure. Winterfell must be regained and the numbers the Manderlys have would affirm the odds. I would need to take my own numbers to cut off Bolton and the Dreadfort from sending reinforcements.

"The future Lord Stark is fond of you, Melisandre tells me. If you are successful at White Harbor, perhaps a marriage could be arranged between you. What Tyrell power exists may act as a conduit through you, even if your house is fractured. To bind yourself with the Warden of the North means that by right your bannermen would owe allegiance to House Stark."

Elaine steadied her breath, astounded by what she was hearing. The news was bittersweet and she didn't know whether to be happy or to grieve for her sister, who was certainly deceased. "I will go to White Harbor if that is what my king commands," she told him blandly.

"And Lord Stark?"

"The pieces will fall as the Gods intend them. Should our paths be brought together again, then let it lie so. Not before, only after. There are still too many uncertainties and he remains bound to the Night's Watch," Elaine responded as the elevator came to a screeching halt at the top of the Wall.

Stannis stopped, standing so that he could look her directly in the eye. "Good. Come dawn your escort will start the journey for White Harbor. Not ravens will be sent to prevent interception. You have served me faithfully in these past months and I intend to reward my bannermen or women equal to what they deserve."

Elaine bowed her head respectfully, still feeling quite ill by all the news. "Your grace, if I may?"

"Go ahead."

"If Lord Manderly requires more commitment, something more… binding to affirm his loyalty, may I offer him your daughter to wed one of his sons? I know that his son William Manderly is unwed."

Stannis locked his jaw, a look sweeping over Elaine that made her shiver. After a long pause, he conceded. "If that is the last resort to securing Lord Manderly, then yes. However, if William Manderly is unkind or shrewd in any way-"

"You grace, I would not dream of betrothing your daughter to a lecher or cruel man. I shall make the decision only if need be," Elaine assured him.

Another petulant look and he nodded. "Very well. Dawn tomorrow."

Ever a man of short notice and punctuality, Elaine let him go atop the Wall before deciding to ride the elevator back down. The wind beat her hair around her face and for the first time, she almost forgot about how the heights terrified her. Stannis had offered her Jon Snow in return for the Manderlys. Was he doing it out of pity? Uncertain if the Tyrells would ever join him now? Even if she was the last one alive, many of her bannermen would defect to the closest Crown, which was King's Landing. Would some come north to join her? She did not know. Maybe those with naval strength who could make the voyage without getting caught by the Lannisters, but certainly not the 100,000 swords House Tyrell originally had to offer.

_If he can place me North, root me here for good, he owns both Jon and I. Jon who he is pardoning and me, his ward, _she wasn't bitter about this realization. But the idea of marriage made her head light and her stomach queer. She had long forsaken the idea of getting married and had been intending to die alone or with some foreign Lysene lover. That had been her original intention. Retire to Lys where she could enjoy the luxuries a magister had to offer. Her original, shallow plan had been snatched from her when Olenna summoned her back to Highgarden. Never did she think that among the frigid, icy North, that someone would manage to melt her heart. _He's too good for me. Bastard or no, _Elaine thought doubtfully, wondering if she should even bother seeing Jon that evening.

First she needed to grieve. Pull out a fine bottle of wine and begin her packing so that she'd be ready to go to White Harbor come morning. Her hand was clutching the parchment declaring House Tyrell traitors fast, a subtle reminder that parts of her family might still be alive. Upon passing a torch, she paused to burn the rest of the parchment, offering it up to the Lord of Light. If there was any time to start believed in the God, perhaps it was now when she hoped her family alive and safe.

Before anyone could halt her for a 'moment' of her time, she slid into her chambers, door clicking shut quietly behind her.

_Jon_

As his father had done, Jon did, swinging the sword that would take off Janos Slynt's head as he was the one who sentenced him. His eyes had turned up to where the king and queen stood, but he was not fixated on the royal family. No, he was watching Elaine as she placed a hand on the princess's back and inquired if the girl was alright. Death was messy and Jon took no satisfaction in it, but there was no other punishment for attempted murder of a noble lady and Slynt's actions had stirred a deep fury as hot as dragon fire in the pit of his stomach. Was his father watching him now? What did Eddard think of his decision? He would be leaving the Night's Watch.

A long time ago, being a black brother had been all he dreamed about. Getting away from Winterfell and Catelyn to an honorable job in the Night's Watch. He was naive and didn't know that the Crows had descended to nothing more than the majority of thieves, rapists, and rejected lordlings. There was only one thing that Jon had to be certain of before he departed; Samwell and Gilly's safety. He still had enough time as he had to delegate with Stannis regarding the Freefolk and organizing them would take time. However, some of which could happen during his transition to Lord Stark. Chills raked down his spine at the thought of no longer being called Snow. It was a queer feeling, one he didn't believe he properly deserved.

And what was it all for? He wanted to save the realm, pick up where Robb had left off, punish Theon for his betrayal, but he also wanted the opportunity to have Elaine. Even if it didn't work out, he had enough things to worry about to dwell on the Tyrell, but deep down he knew that her roots had grown within him and forsaking her would be difficult, especially after he'd lost one woman in a battle at odds with one another. Ygritte had been his star crossed lover, but Elaine didn't have to be unless he made it that way.

"Burn his body, give him a proper burial, he was a brother after all," Jon directed as the head and body of Janos were retrieved. No one knew of his intentions to relinquish control to Alliser Thorne. No one but Stannis and possibly Melisandre. He intended to keep it that way for now, fearing that Sam might accidentally mention it to someone with an even larger mouth.

Wiping the blood from Janos on his black cloak, he pressed his gloved fingers into Ghost's fur before descending the dias. So much to do and time was slipping betwixt his fingers. The king and his ensemble, including Elaine, had dispersed. Jon made way for his study, requesting a steward fetch Samwell for him. On his desk were multiple layers of maps of The Gift. The mountain clans that Stannis had just affirmed were belligerent at the idea of the wildlings settling in the land beneath them and it was yet another situation he had to handle. He hoped that once he settled into command as The Warden of the North, they might be more willing to accept what laws he laid down, but until that point he was receiving angry ravens nearly everyday. They would not change his mind, they had not witnessed the massacre at Hardhome.

Door creaking open, Jon glanced up to see as Samwell waddled into his study. "Sit," Jon directed before continuing to work on the letter to the First Flints, who he had received the letter from that day.

Sam pulled up a seat, screeching against the dusty wooden floor before it groaned with his weight. He propped his hands on his laps, again with the nervous fidgeting that eventually distracted Jon to the point where he couldn't complete his letter. "What is it?" Jon questioned.

"Lot of ravens been coming in recently," Sam told his observantly, eyes scanning what Jon was working on.

"Lot of notes to answer," Jon responded.

"Letters from King's Landing," Sam continued.

Jon paused, having not heard of any news from King's Landing. "Where are said letters?"

"The Red Woman took them to King Stannis this morning. I had the chance to read them…" Sam drawled, dangling the information in front of Jon like a mouse to a cat.

"In a moment," Jon slid a new piece of parchment in front of him and began writing. "You're going to the Citadel with Gilly in two days time."

Sam was remarkably quiet for a moment before, "What?"

"Maester Aemon's health is failing and a new maester will be needed," Jon began, though his intentions weren't entirely as he spoke. "After what happened to Lady Elaine, having women in Castle Black is a poor idea. King Stannis plans to relocate his wife and daughter as well."

"Lady Elaine was targeted because she was a Tyrell," Sam said. "And I want to be here for Maester Aemon, throughout his last days."

Jon looked at his friend and saw that his cheeks were quivering. Sam might have offhandedly called himself craven on many occasions, but when pushed to his, Sam was braver than any he'd seen. It took gall to put Jon up for Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. It took gall to disagree with Jon. "How much longer do you believe he has?" he asked bluntly.

Sam winced. "A few days to perhaps a week. If I could just stay until then…"

"Very well," Jon sighed, though he had been hoping to slip Sam out while there was a lot of foot traffic. "But after that you're to go to Oldtown. Now, what letters did we receive this morning?"

Sam now balked at answering these questions, as if he were treading thin ice with his pudgy form, certain to go crashing through into icy water. "House Tyrell…" he began slowly, trying to find a way to word it proper. "House Tyrell has been branded traitors. Apparently one of them poisoned King Joffrey. All of them are wanted… At least, the ones that are certainly alive or not in Lannister custody. Any of their bannermen who still serve them are also branded as traitors."

"And which are not in Lannister custody?"

"Olenna, the matron, Lord Mace, Lady Elaine, and Ser Loras. There was no mention of Lord Mace's other sons, Garlan and Willas, or his lady wife. With how long ravens take to get here, I'm uncertain if they haven't been apprehended or not."

"Isn't there another? Another Tyrell daughter?"

"Margaery?" Sam's voice dropped in volume. "She was executed for treason. It was in the letter."

"And does Lady Elaine know?"

"Stannis took the letters and I saw him take her up the Wall privately. I can't say for certain, but…"

"Probably," Jon felt his fingers tighten around the quill as he completed Sam's orders. He rolled the parchment and held the black wax over the candle flame before letting it drip onto the seam, stamping it with the seal of the Night's Watch. "These are your orders to attend the Citadel and become a maester. Once you plan to go, I will give you enough coin for passage."

"And what of you Jon, I can't just leave you here. There's not more Pyp or Grenn."

"Pyp and Grenn have been dead for a while now. I still have some friends here, as few as they are. When you return everything will make more sense, but for now don't question it," Jon said, coming round his desk to place the orders in Sam's hand.

"I do trust you Jon, but I don't trust those who follow Alliser. They're always plotting, as if they're going to catch you when Stannis isn't here… If he's sending away the women, there are less witnesses and with them also go more soldiers. Perhaps I should stay longer-"

"No Sam, once Maester Aemon passes, you will go."

Sam stood up, his face a mixture of doubt and worry as he made his way to the door followed closely by Jon. "Will you check on Lady Elaine?"

"Why, do you fancy her?" Jon teased, trying to break up the tension.

Sam scowled at him, but his cheeks grew pink. "Even if I've forsaken all titles, the Tarlys were fast bannermen to the Tyrells. I've known her for a long time… _And_ don't think I'm so stupid. Even that idiot Janos could see from a mile away that _you _fancy her. Don't make that mistake again Jon, you're Lord Commander."

"I know," Jon replied, feeling a bit dirty that he wasn't telling Samwell his intentions. He would learn eventually and when it mattered. After Sam had left, he remained by the door, soaking in the information he now possessed. The Tyrells had been renounced in the South. For all anyone in the North knew, the remaining Tyrells were dead or scattered to the wind along with their enormous army. His mind slipped to losing Robb and then Bran and Rickon. Uncertainty was better than being affirmed, but it was also enough to drive someone mad. He didn't know what was happening with Sansa, little word had gone out about her, and apparently Arya was in the clutches of Ramsay Bolton. If anyone knew what it was like to hear your family was wilting and you couldn't do a thing to help, Jon knew it too well.

Finally, he opened the door, smacked in the face with how frigid it was that evening. Elaine's chambers were located closer to the King's Tower where other knights or higher caste bannermen were staying. Having helped assign them himself, Jon knew exactly which was hers, but it felt naughty to be knocking on a lady's door just come the fall of night. His shoulders tensed and he hunched them forward, hesitating before he knocked. There was a bit of scrabbling within the room and it took a solid minute before it cracked open and a dark blue eye leered dubiously through it.

Realizing who he was, the door opened enough for him to slip in and was secured quickly behind him. Jon blushed when he turned to see Elaine, standing in a silky white nightgown that fell to the floor just above her sock covered toes. Her hair was not styled and fell in loose chestnut ringlets down her chest and back. She gave him a questioning look before retreating to a table with a small cask of wine seated on it.

"Perfect timing Lord Stark, I was just about to break open this sweet red wine from Volantis," she told him, tapping the cask's tab which she had yet to insert to sever the seal.

"Elaine-" but he paused as she turned away to work on the cask, slowly recalling the words that had touched her lips. Had she called him Lord Stark? Certainly it was just a play on what she'd said a week ago, claiming that he had always been a Stark.

"Ooh, it's just Elaine now, is it?" she asked, before grabbing a pair of goblets. "Drink with me."

Jon still remained by the door, watching the way that the firelight caught her gown, illuminating her figure beneath, her slender waist and hourglass frame. Just beneath the silken gown was either nothing or just her small clothes. He almost hadn't noticed that she was offering a glass of the wine to him.

"To the Tyrells," she toasted, before turning the goblet up. She didn't stop, not until the entire chalice was empty, returning for a refill, her eyes were the only part of her that was not smiling. No they were filled with grief as she collapsed into the nearby chair, crossing her legs, and placing a slender hand to her temple as her hair fell in front of her fair face.

"Elaine," Jon said again, certain she'd heard word of her family.

"Sit across from me Jon. I want to tell you about my family," she ordered, barely glancing up from her position. "Margaery was like a miniature version of me. We were similar in a lot of ways, appearance, mannerisms. The last time I saw her she was only 10 years old. To think that in the time I had been gone she had become a woman grown and was to wed that wretched… _Anyways,_ our paths diverged. She got to play the part I never could and I toiled in Dorne, becoming something else. I like to think that she was clever and cunning, but I suppose I'll never know. She wasn't in Highgarden when I returned. I only got to see my grandmother and having a bout with her is always-" she snorted before taking a sip of the wine. "As much as I rue her, I'll probably be just like her when I'm that old and grouchy. My grandmother has always cared for the family more than anything, even if she's made some questionable decisions. I'm questioning the manner in which she betrayed that the Tyrells poisoned Joffrey. She was so careless and Margaery paid the price. If anyone did, it should have been her. Margaery had an entire life ahead of her."

"Did you ever meet Joffrey?" Jon asked her.

"Meet him? I've heard enough stories about what a little tyrant he was. Even grandmother said she didn't want Margaery with him."

"Some years ago, when all of the Starks were in Winterfell, King Robert came to ask my father to become the King's Hand. Now, I wish he never accepted the offer. King's Landing would have just imploded on itself and the North wouldn't have collapsed. However, when Joffrey was here, my half-sister Sansa was smitten with him. I don't really know why. He strut around with a sword as if he knew how to use it and just permeated a feeling, an air that he believed himself better than everyone, including those hosting his family. I never witnessed his terror, but I can only imagine what Sansa and Arya experienced."

"Have you heard any word about Sansa? She's still in King's Landing, right?" Elaine sat up to ask this question.

"No, nothing since the death of my father. Arya on the other hand… I was always closer to Arya. She wanted to learn how to fight, perhaps become a lady similar to yourself. I had a sword made for her just before we parted ways those years ago. I was close to Robb too, but Arya was different. We both had the look of our father and I actually got to hold her after she had been borne. Lady Catelyn hadn't let me hold Sansa, but Arya… The only word we've had of her is that the Lannisters gave her to Ramsay Bolton to solidify his claim to Winterfell," the idea of Arya being forced to do anything was amusing. At least, it had been when they were children, but now he was fearful of what might be happening within the walls of Winterfell.

"We'll get her back," Elaine promised, making Jon smile ruefully at her quick oath.

"Are you drunk, my lady?"

Elaine scowled at him. "I wouldn't say drunk. Tipsy, perhaps… but I'm drowning my sorrows, can't you tell?"

"With a smile on your face?"

"I'm amused. You can be amused when you're sad."

He knew a man who had drank to sate his emptiness; Tyrion Lannister. Certainly, Elaine was not like the imp, but he drew the similarities as she finished the second goblet. "I'm going to White Harbor tomorrow," she declared.

"That is a long trip," Jon observed.

"I am to convince House Manderly to join Stannis. We'll see just how that goes," she grimaced setting the goblet down on the table. "I have my doubts about them, but perhaps if I can arrange a marriage pact."

"A marriage pact with whom?" Jon inquired, trying not to sound too interested.

Elaine caught him the moment he asked the question. "What would you do if I said it would be my hand offered?"

"It's not," Jon shrugged.

"But what if it is?" she leaned forward eagerly.

"You wouldn't be so giddy."

"And why's that Jon Snow?" she was openly mocking him now, screwing her face up so she was pretending to be serious, and dropping her voice in an attempt to make it deeper.

"Perhaps you should get some sleep. You have to get up early in the morning, do you not?"

"Uhg, always the responsible one, aren't you?" she complained. "You're not just content to let me wallow?"

"No," Jon said, offering her a hand up and to her feet. Elaine staggered as if she were walking for the first time, the good few cups she had drank hitting her hard. Breathing a laugh, Elaine steadied herself and gazed up at him. "Go to sleep Elaine."

"You're quite bossy," Elaine informed him.

"Comes with the title."

"Fine, I'll see you out," Elaine groaned, stopping a few paces away from the door. The drunk, girlish demeanor evaporated slightly. "We won't see each other again for a good deal of time," she realized.

Jon gave her a wry smile. "Yes, it will be some time."

"You won't forget about me, will you?"

"Forget you?"

"I'm just a summer flower, one among many in a field," she frowned.

"There are no flower fields up here. Not with winter coming," he reached forward and tucked some of her hair behind an ear. "We each have our duties laid out before us. If the Gods intend it-"

"They'll bring us back together," Elaine finished ruefully passing him so she could put her hand on the door. "Perhaps when I see you again you'll be Lord Stark."

Just when she was about to open it, Jon placed his hand on hers, halting her. What if they never did see each other again? What if something happened in White Harbor or Jon died while trying to reclaim Winterfell? He still wore the black, but this would not be the first time he had been called an oath breaker. Was it really breaking an oath when he intended to be pardoned from service? Yes, it was, he knew that down to his core as he took Elaine and pressed his mouth to hers.

Her body melted against his, leaning into him so passionately that he wondered if she'd ever been drunk or playing him a fool. He pushed her against the wall, one hand tangled in her loose curls and just a moment passed where they broke away to breath, foreheads together before grabbed the strap of his cloak and back down to meet her. His other hand roamed down the gown, the thin silk hugging her skin. He could feel her soft breasts, her smooth hard stomach, and supple rear.

A deep yearning stirred within him and he could feel his trousers grow tighter. Cheeks hot and feeling a bit breathless, he gazed down at Elaine, her hair tousled and her clear eyes half lidded in the ecstasy of his touch.

"Jon," she whispered, a hint of wine still on her breath. "I want to, but I…"

He became blatantly aware of what was going on as he had her pinned to the wall, one hand immobilized by his firm grip. He loosened and intended to take a step back, but she followed him.

"When we meet again," she said, reaching up to touch his face. "When you can promise me."

"Promise you what?" Jon asked, his voice husky and weak.

"That this won't be the end," she took his hand and led him to the door. "Isn't there a saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder?"

Jon smiled at her, in her raw glory, her hair now a mess. "I didn't take you for the romantic type."

Elaine snorted, pushing back her thick locks. "Being South does give a lady a certain inclination…" her eyes fastened on him resolute and hard. "Till we meet again Jon Stark."

Jon drew her visage in a final time before kissing her brow. "Till we meet again Elaine Tyrell."

* * *

_Now introducing more original characters. William Manderly and Meraxes Velaryon._


End file.
